In Sickness
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Somewhere between blaming himself and wallowing in self-pity, Paul kind of comes to terms with being alone. Steph's not coming back and he has a family to head as well as WWE to run. He just...never thought he'd be doing it on his own.
1. Chapter 1

He laid in bed for a bit, that morning, instead of getting up. There was no rush, honestly, for anything. The day could unfold and progress at its own pace. It was meant to.

Still, he probably should have felt at least a bit antsy as he laid there, alone, in the bed too big for just himself. Andre, their pet Mastiff, had been with him, in his wife's spot, for a good part of the night, but was over by the door then, no doubt having wanted to be let out at some point and, not getting it, fallen asleep there.

Paul just rested there, arms on his stomach, watching the change in the shadows as the sun slowly rose and light began to come through the far windows. The blinds were drawn, but the curtains were open because he hadn't thought to close them.

It was only the smell of coffee that got him up. And even then, he was rather languid about it. If there was coffee brewing, it meant that someone else was up too. And depending on the person, he might not want to see them.

It could be Vince. He was there, in the lake house, for the weekend, with them. He was always up at odd hours. Paul wasn't exactly wanting to see him, but he wouldn't hate it.

Or maybe Linda. She was there too, of course, but far less likely, he felt. The first thing she would have done, were she up, would be to check on the girls, and he would have heard that, if she woke them up. Having to deal with her so early wouldn't be horrible, but again, it just wasn't what he wanted.

Shane was there too. With his sons. And wife. The boys were sleeping down in the basement, where he knew at least one of his daughters was sleeping too, as well as Paul's nephew from his sister, who'd already come down. His niece, sister, and mother and father would be there that afternoon.

For the party.

Actually, as he thought about it, Paul didn't really wanna see any of those people that much. He didn't want to see anyone. But Andre was up then and probably needed to take a leak, so there was kind of no other option.

Since extended family was around, Paul slipped on some sleeping pants over his boxers as well as a skintight undershirt before leading his dog through the house, the dog's nails clicking loudly on the same hardwood floor that was freezing to the pads of his master's feet.

The house was too silent, it felt like, for so many people to be housed with in it. It helped, of course, that they were spread across two floors (three, including the basement), but still; it just felt off.

Then again, recently, nothing had quite felt on either.

Andre was a good boy though and didn't bark or anything, awakening the others. Not even when they passed Shane where he was, still sleeping on the couch, having fallen asleep from the looks of it, watching the still on television, now rerunning the previous night's Sports Center on a low volume.

Leaving it be, Paul and Andre headed to the backdoor, the man letting the animal run free, knowing he was trained to come back the second even the first syllable of his name was called. He'd been a Levesque for a little over a year by then (very little) but had quickly acclimated into the fold. It was no easy job in the world, after all, being the only son in a family (especially after the last only son had left such big paw prints to fill), but he did okay. Held his own.

Paul let the pooch get his business taken care of in private before heading off to the kitchen to find out just who it was that had gotten up to brew some coffee. His bet had, honestly, been Shane, but this wasn't the case as he found, rather, a much smaller version of the man, filling up his own cup of it.

"You drink coffee?" he asked, in slight shock, at the sight of his oldest nephew from his wife's side there, in the darkened kitchen, doing just that. "Declan?"

His nephew glanced up at him, nearly spilling some coffee in the process, as if shocked to see him. Then, with a frown, the thirteen year old told him, "I'm not a little kid. I can drink it if I want."

Though it had started out somewhat peeved by the question, Declan's tone had slowly gotten softer as he seemed to realize who he was talking to, recalling all his uncle was currently going through. Not that Paul held it against him.

It was easy for him to forget, it was for Paul, as he was so busy dealing with the emotions of his three daughters that Shane's three sons had lost too. A seemingly permanent fixture in their life had disappeared just as suddenly as it had in his daughters'. Even though he was older than the others, Declan was still a kid too.

Which is why, with a shake of his head, Paul only came further into the kitchen, going to gently tap the teen on the head. He stared up at him too, his nephew did, waiting to be reprimanded or something. When none came, he watched instead as his uncle reached around him for one of the coffee cups lining the back of the counter to get one of his own.

As the boy moved on to filling his cup with extras, Paul only went to fill the cup. Even though he liked sugar and such in his as well, he took a sip, always, first, to find out just how dark it had been made.

Very.

In fact, it about made him choke.

"Dark enough for you?" he got out as Declan dumped at least half the container of creamer in his cup which already housed at least five sweeteners. "How much coffee did you put in this?"

"I made it like I always make it."

"Yeah, too dark." Paul even shook his head at him. "You wouldn't need so much sugar and creamer if you just..."

But he didn't want to get annoyed with the boy (though he found it easy to then, even more so than the attitude he'd had before, as he'd ruined an entire pot of coffee), even though it was one of the last emotions that he could easily come by, and only let out another long breath before ruffling the teen's hair that time.

"Let me get some of that creamer, huh?" He took the bottle from his nephew's hand. "I definitely need it."

They didn't speak after that and, with his own mug all set, the teen left the room quickly, off to do...something. Paul really didn't care what. He just sort of hoped that he didn't wake anyone else up because literally the last thing he wanted at the moment was more human interaction.

He was pretty alright with canines though, or so Andre found out as his father came to drink his coffee out on the back deck with him. Other than that though, he was alone. It wasn't nearly as soothing as it should have been.

Andre whined some, as they sat out there, lying at his master's feet and nuzzling up against them. Paul knew what the animal wanted, what he'd wanted since it all happened, but there was no helping him. Fuck, Paul wanted the same thing. He just wasn't at the same disadvantage as the poor pooch and knew how impossible his desire had become.

If anything, he felt a tad more foolish than Andre, in that he knew of the impossibility and yet still hoped for it, as he sat out there, alone, in the slight chill of the end of summer air, kind of sort of hoping that...that Steph would...join him out there.

Like she usually did. Always did. Even though she typically desired more sleep than him. No matter how sleepy she was, Stephanie would push it aside because she thought it was romantic. That's what she always say. How cute and romantic and all that womanly shit that he mostly just pretended to notice for her sake it was for them to be out there, watching the sunrise over coffee, not really talking, but that was okay, because they'd sit real close to one another, whether they be at home or at the lake house, making it to where their chairs were touching and their elbows brushed.

She liked that stuff. He just put up with it.

Or at least that's what he thought.

Now that he was sitting there though, knowing that it wouldn't be coming back, he…

It felt like forever ago that that the whole thing started. But it wasn't even a full year since it first…

Paul kind of joked that she was getting lazy. That was the first time he could remember anything really being wrong. Different. It was the week after their anniversary and, for the second time in a row, Steph claimed she was too tired for one of their workouts.

"I am not," she said through yawns as he left her upstairs, in bed, as he headed down to their basement gym to meet up with Joe, their trainer. "I just… I can try, baby, but my back hurts and I could hardly stay awake all day and-"

"You're fine." He even went to kiss her head. "Just more lazy than me. Admit it."

"I admit it," she groaned, just a bit, as she shoved his head away. "You're so strong, Paul. Stronger than me."

"Hell yeah I am." But he grinned down at her. "Feel better though, baby."

"I'll try."

But she didn't get better.

Not that it was really anything noticeable. Steph just started napping more, during the day, when they weren't busy, instead of spending time with the girls. She all but quit with their midnight workout sessions. To combat this, he'd thought, she frequently claimed not to be hungry and would skip out on most of dinner or eat next to nothing, at best.

Paul honestly thought that turning forty was just hitting her hard. He mentioned to her more than once that she really should be eating more, as that was his biggest concern, but honestly, they had so much going on in their lives and saw so little of one another that, really, how was he supposed to know?

Anything?

At all?

Maybe that's just what he told himself afterward to help feel better. Cope. That there was no way for him to notice.

Because if he had noticed, had suggested sooner that maybe she got get checked out, skip a bit of work one day just to make sure she was alright, maybe they'd have caught it sooner.

 _They would have caught it sooner_.

Which, necessarily, might have done nothing to change their current outcome, but if it had…

Steph went to the doctor on December 16th. Paul remembered it exactly because it was a Friday and they'd woken up together, at home, and he was the first one to notice what was up with his wife.

"This isn't normal, Steph," he told her as they stood in the bathroom, her staring at herself in the mirror while he stood beside her, neither having gotten ready for the day, nor woken the girls who needed to as well. As Steph stared at herself though, Paul stared down at his cellphone, looking up just what could be the cause of his wife's current predicament.

"What do you mean you have yellow eyes?" Vince asked about twenty minutes later, over the speaker phone. Steph had text him to say she wouldn't be there, for that reason, and that she was going to the doctor.

Her overly concern father (mixed with slightly peeved boss) called immediately.

"She means what she says, Vince," Paul grumbled. They'd shifted to her home office then, where Steph was getting ready to call to see if she could make a doctor's appointment (it being Friday, she was doubtful, but Paul was insistent) and her husband was with her because, well, his wife was turning fucking yellow; he wasn't going anywhere. "The whites around her eyes have turned...you know, yellow. And I guess her skin too, maybe-"

"My skin is fine," Steph grumbled, glaring down at where she'd sat her cell, on the desk, between her and her husband, so they could both hear the man. "It's just my eyes."

"Is not."

"You didn't say anything about my skin, Paul, until you noticed that-"

"I didn't know to look."

"Oh, bull."

"The only time I've ever heard of people turning yellow," Vince had grumbled over their bickering, "is when their livers have gone because of their drinkin'. Only reason I gave her to you, Paul was to keep her off the bottle."

"Gave me?" Steph remarked.

Paul, however, still only dressed the sleep pants he wore to bed, grumbled out, "This isn't a joke."

"Sounds like a setup to one," Vince said as Steph grinned over at her husband, finding his annoyance kind of reassuring, no doubt. She was worried, Paul knew, even that day, about what was wrong with her, but seeing him even more concerned than her was very cute. "If it isn't drinking that's brought this on-"

"I assure you," Stephanie sighed, "it isn't."

"-then what else could cause-"

"Something's probably up with her liver," Paul said, quite loudly, tone absolute. "Or pancreas. She probably has gallstones."

"Gallstones, huh?"

"I do not," Steph grumbled, making a face at the phone. "Those are for, like, old people, aren't they? Or something?"

"You're forty." Vince snorted. "You are old."

"What would that make you, Dad?"

"I-"

"Steph's not gonna be at the office today was the point." Paul was moving to pick up the phone then, despite his wife's complaints in the background that she very well might be in by the afternoon. "She's gonna go to a doctor."

"If I can get an appointment," she reminded both of them. "If I can't-"

"Then you'll go to the emergency room," Paul finished, ignoring the annoyed look in her tainted eyes.

Vince, for once, seemed to recognized the seriousness of the situation, and said, "That's not debatable either."

"Don't let him fool you, Dad," Stephanie said with a roll of those eyes then. "He's read a few articles on the stupid internet and now feels like an expert."

"I do not." Paul even shook his head. "That's why you're going to get checked out by someone that actually is. So, bye, Vince; Steph's got shit to do."

At that point, Paul honestly did think that it was just some sort of deficiency or something. Maybe she had a liver infection. Something like that. Or those gallstones he was talking about, blocking access to something.

Nothing super serious.

Because he didn't think he was an expert, like Stephanie thought, but he did trust the articles somewhat. And since Steph wasn't having trouble breathing and wasn't all unresponsive or whatever, like some people who woke up that way were, he really didn't think it was going to be that big of a deal.

Even as he got the girls ready for the last day before winter break all on his own, Paul's thoughts were, of course, on his wife, but also split between the nonstop talk that his girls were going on about their class Christmas' parties, as well as, for him, just Christmas in general, which was thankfully on a Sunday and not a RAW or Smackdown day (that was always a big thing, every few years).

It was just so obvious that Steph was going to get whatever was up with her all worked out and they'd be fine.

He just sent her a text, when he arrived at work, reminding her that the girls had half days since they were getting out for break, but one of the nannies was picking them up, and to text him whatever she found out at the doctor.

Which she didn't. Text him that. But she did text him.

He was in a lunch meeting when he got the concise message.

 _Call me when you get a chance. We have to talk._

This worried him, if only for a moment, as just as quickly his phone was buzzing again as she sent him a pic of some article from a magazine she'd no doubt read in the waiting room about aging men with some sort of joke about how old he was getting that went along with it.

Paul should have realized, as he did thinking back on it, that she only did that to keep him from worrying. It worked, of course, as he thought if she was in a joking mood, clearly it wasn't anything serious, just something too long to be spoken of in text messages.

He didn't get around to calling her back until about two in the afternoon. She answered on the first ring.

"Hey, baby," he greeted as he walked through the halls of headquarters, headed to his office. "Where are you?"

Instead of answering that, she only responded with, "Are you alone?"

"About to be," he said, nodding at some people as they passed him in the hall. "When I get to my office. I-"

"Well, get there, Paul." He could remember hearing her swallow, too, and taking note of just how serious she sounded. "We got some stuff we need to talk about."

It didn't take him long to get there. The second he was, he shut the door behind him before saying, "What's wrong? Do you need me? Do-"

"It's not… I'm just waiting for some results."

"Oh." He even let out a breath. "Then you don't know-"

"And I have some other...tests that I have to do."

Heading over to his desk, Paul didn't sit down at it as he was too antsy then, instead asking, "What do they think's up, Steph?"

"Something with my liver." She laughed, then, but it was nervously. "I'm such a baby though. You know I hate doctors. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"I can come down there. Or-"

"No. Don't." She sounded more sure of herself on that. "Just...I just wanted to talk. I'll probably be here awhile. Blood tests and all that."

"Good. That's where you need to be." Again, his fears felt quelled. "Do you need anything else?"

"No. Just..."

"Keep texting me. Until you're finished up there." He laughed a bit too. "Since you need me. You big baby."

Which she did, after they hung up. And even though Paul had his hands full up at work, he tried to text her back as often as possible.

The day drug on though, for Steph, up there. The longer time went on and they told her even less, the more Paul started to think that it wasn't just gallstones.

Then she stopped texting him. For awhile. It was only after he grew annoyed with this and text her back that she explained why.

 _At hospital now. Call you later._

Which wasn't cool. At all. For a number of reasons. Clearly whatever was up with her was serious enough to be there, so he certainly was worried about that, but oddly the first place his brain went was annoyance over the fact that she clearly drove herself from her doctor's office to the hospital. Plenty of time to call her damn husband. Admittedly, the first was right down the road from the second, but still.

A lot of the days after that one kind of blurred for Paul. Because even as he got off work to go sit up there with Steph, at the hospital, they really didn't know for certain yet just what was causing her problems. They had a short list, but it wouldn't be for another day before it was certain.

Though Paul was worried, his wife was pretty upbeat on the way down to the hospital, to find out the results of those last few tests.

"It is gallstones, I guarantee you," she told him with a grin that he couldn't quite return. "All the symptoms are there."

"What symptoms?" he grumbled. "You have jaundice; that's a pretty broad-"

"There were others," she said, looking off, out the window, as he only made a face over at her, still gripping the steering wheel pretty tightly in his worry. "That I didn't tell you about."

"What are you talking about? There were other-"

"Just...personal things."

"I'm your husband."

"That's kind of why I didn't wanna tell you. We do sort of still have sex."

"Only sort of," he carped with a frown. "Steph-"

"It's not...something you tell a guy that you're-"

"It's not something that 2000s Steph should tell 2000s Paul. It's 2016, babe; so spill."

"You can't even hold my hair back when I puke."

"I can. I just don't."

"Paul-"

"Tell me."

He had to goad it out of her, but she basically told him about just how much her back had been hurting, recently, and how even though she'd stopped working out, she was noticing how much weight she was losing.

"Not that much," he told her as they drove along. "I haven't noticed."

"Well, I have. Not a lot, but… It's just weird."

"That's a sign of gallstones?"

"I don't think so, but-"

"And you're not getting off the disgusting things you didn't wanna tell me."

"If you really wanna hear-"

"I do."

So she told him. And she was right, it was kinda nasty. Just...bathroom things that she'd been experiencing. That he'd use later to bolster his case that he just didn't know everything. If she'd had told him before about her stool or pee being discolored and shit, he'd have told her to get checked out a long time ago.

He wasn't at fault.

Right?

Paul didn't really know a lot about pancreatic cancer. At all. And when they first told them that they believed that was what was wrong with his wife, he got a bit annoyed. Because it didn't make any sense.

It was her liver that was bothering her. Liver. Not her pancreas.

Granted, Paul wasn't really well versed in what exactly each of those things did, but that was besides the point.

He got a crash course though, very quickly. In the days that flew by, he couldn't remember thinking about work, really, once. Just Steph and the tests they were doing to determine the staging of her cancer and, really, he spent most his time on his phone, looking up different things and sifting through all the stories of how sometimes, doctors were wrong and gave the wrong diagnosis and that was just the case.

It had to be.

Steph was only forty.

Pancreatic cancer was for people in, like, their seventies.

So...just no. And there wasn't a really big family history there or anything, so that wasn't it.

They were just wrong.

Regardless, it kind of put a damper on Christmas, to say the least. The kids knew there was _something_ wrong, but not exactly what (expect Rora, who overheard them late one night talking about it, but Paul kind of sat down and told her to keep it to herself and that everything was alright), while everyone else was pretty much in the know. They spent Christmas Eve with Vince, Linda, and Shane's family, where most adult topics were focused in on that while the kids played with the few gifts they'd been able to open that night.

Murphy, while Paul was stretched out on Vince's couch in the living room, trying to numb his mind with It's a Wonderful Life as it played on the television, felt the need to let her father know that the gig was up by crawling onto his chest and staring down at him.

"Daddy," his eight year old said as they only stared at one another, "I know."

Blinking, Paul's mind went one place first and, quickly sitting up, he ran through all the things he could tell her about cancer and sickness that she didn't already know in the basic way just from their foundation.

She spoke before he found the words.

"I know that Santa isn't real and that you've just been lying this whole time."

Oh. He almost fell back to the couch in relief.

Doing some more blinking, Paul reached up to scratch at his head with one hand while the other came to push some of her blonde strands out of her face.

"What makes you say that?" he asked softly as they heard the others, in other parts of the massive house, talking and laughing (though the latter was mostly fro the children). "Murph?"

"Because I'm not a baby." She even frowned at him. "And you shouldn't treat me like one."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just as old as Rora!"

"I know. I mean, minus two years, but I know."

"You should tell us the same things."

With a nod, he said, "Though there is one thing, Murph."

"What?"

After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he muttered against it, "Rora's known all along that Santa isn't real. Since she was, like, six, so-"

"What?"

"Which means she figured it out before you. Age wise and chronologically. Maybe she's just less of a baby than you."

His chest got shoved and even though he didn't feel like it, he grinned for his daughter because they always made him feel better.

Always.

His parents made him feel a lot better too, when they got there, late Christmas Eve, with his sister and her kids (he knew they were pretty much grown, but he liked calling them kids) arriving the next morning.

"It's inoperable," is what he told them as they sat in his kitchen later, after Vince's place, with Steph and girls in bed and only the three of them up. The word felt heavy on his tongue and still made very little sense to him. At all. "Is what they say. That it's spread into other.. But don't you think they're wrong? I mean, how could it have spread that much, so fast? Without us even knowing? That's...stupid, right?"

But what could they do other than agree with him and pat him on the shoulder and tell him it would be alright?

Honestly, what?

They didn't tell anyone until after Christmas though that they kind of already knew a bit more than they were letting on. As far as staging went. Paul because he was holding out that it wasn't true and that a doctor would be calling them soon to let them know just how untrue it was (the age didn't make sense even though he kind of did find a few cases of it in the forties, how far along it was made more sense, but still no sense to him and a bunch of other stuff that added up, but he refused to accept like how Vince mentioned that there was some history to it, on his side, like three off the top of his head that got it in their sixties) while Stephanie was just trying to keep the holiday fun for their children.

But...they pretty much knew then that it was stage four and that it had spread from the pancreas to the liver and they were dealing more in containment than curing.

Which is just what got him, so fucking much, so fucking often.

If he had just paid attention, even just by a few weeks, then maybe…

Because at some point it had to have been in the other stages. Before she got that bad. Before they noticed. And if he had been able to figure it out, that there was something up, before then, even in stage three, then there would have still been a chance and...and…

And Andre had gotten up, from at his feet, and left, while Paul was staring out at the sky that he didn't find nearly as romantic as Steph would have, the animal only returning when he'd found one of his tennis balls scattered about the property.

Giving up on whining until his father found his mother, the animal decided that it was time to play instead. Until Mommy could be located.

Paul didn't want to though. Declan's coffee was too strong and it was making his stomach sick. Er, well, something was making his stomach sick. Just the thoughts, probably. And he couldn't be sick that day.

It was the 24th after all. Of August. Which meant, of course, that it was Vince's birthday, but more importantly that it was Vaughn's.

The first time they were all together again, since Steph's funeral three weeks ago.

He couldn't lose it already.

Not before the sunrise was finished.

"Come on, buddy." He patted Andre on the head as he got to his feet, leaving his mug outside. "We gotta go make the birthday girl her birthday breakfast."

Which was fine with Andre, as it meant waking the birthday girl and the other girls and children, which would lead, he was hoping to finding someone that would play fetch with him.

Or find his Mommy.

Honestly, Andre was up for either at that point.

* * *

 **Probably five chapters on this one, will suffice. Expect this kind of back and forth story telling of the present, flashback, then present again because it just works well with the flow of this, I think.**


	2. Chapter 2

"You don't have to make me nothin' special. Daddy."

That's what Paul's youngest, Vaughn, informed him of as they stood in the kitchen of the lake house, most of the house still dark, but the light on in there as he pulled some stuff out of the fridge and cupboards, gathering up ingredients.

He'd found that Vaughn wasn't in the basement, with the other children, but rather sleeping in his parents' room. Which was actually for the better (for Andre too, who for some reason felt sleepy again and curled right up in Vaughn's spot, against the complaints of his 'grandparents'), as Paul was able to go get her without waking the other kids and therefore saving him from having to make them anything to eat.

He'd let them fend for themselves, if he could help it.

The only reason he felt like making Vaughn something special was because it was her birthday; the others could just have Pop-Tarts.

"Yes, I do." He didn't even glance down at her. "It's your birthday."

"But you still don't have to."

"I want to."

Vaughn wasn't sure though. She wasn't sure of anything, typically, in those days, but did nod a bit. Holding up her arms to him then, she let him lift her up onto the counter, so that she could sit there and help him.

"Put tons of chocolate chips in them," she instructed as they put together the pancake batter. When he made a face at his seven year old, she only grinned up at him. "Please, Daddy."

Staring down at her, Paul nodded a bit. "Of course, princess."

"Are you gonna eat some?"

"I don't like chocolate."

"I think you should eat some." She smiled brightly at him when he looked at her. "You might like them now."

Too tired to argue, he only mumbled out a, "Maybe," though he had little plans to find out.

Birthday breakfasts were a big thing in their household. It helped, of course, that the girls' birthdays all fell during summer, so there was no rush behind them. Not to mention he was home more. He tried to always be around for their birthdays, but it wasn't always easy. Sometimes he had to combine Aurora and Murphy's birthday breakfasts on the same day, given his schedule and that they were so close, but he'd be sure to wake up one before the other, get their special breakfast made, eat with them, and then send them off and go get the other one.

It was the only way to keep arguing to a minimum.

Each of his girls had very specific requests for their birthday breakfast.

Vaughn, obviously, liked chocolate chip pancakes. Along with those came tons of whipped cream (from the can, she always specified, though that was mostly because she liked the sound it made) and bacon.

Oh, and lots of nasty, sticky syrup that Paul was hoping, as a seven year old now, she'd be able to avoid getting covered in.

Murphy liked for him to make her a big omelet. A huge one. She liked for him to put everything in it. Sausage and bacon and ham and potatoes and onions and tons of cheese too!

Not that she ever finished.

Not even once.

He normally let her eat her fill of it and then just finished the rest. Or saved it for her lunch.

It made her happy.

That was why he did most things in life.

Aurora was, as always, simpler than her sisters. She always just asked him to make her waffles.

Paul always accidentally burned them though, somehow, even though Steph would always tell him that it should be impossible for him not to understand how to work a waffle iron.

But Rora wouldn't complain, she rarely did about anything, and mostly just seemed to want him to sit down and eat with her. Alone. She really liked to soak up the very rare times when it could just be the two of them. All the girls did, fine, but Aurora enjoyed it most of all.

"Are you making breakfast?"

And the problem with having Vaughn's special birthday breakfast at the lake house, which was filled with other people, became quickly apparent as not soon after Paul started frying up the bacon, Rogan, Shane's youngest son, came to find out what was going on.

Before his uncle could tell him though, Vaughn, from her place on the counter, glared at her cousin.

"Only for me," she informed the other seven year old. "For my birthday."

"That's not fair."

"Yes, it is. It's my birthday."

"I gotta eat too. Can't I just have some?"

Paul, who was trying to let Vaughn handle the issue, listened to silence then as Vaughn seemed to think this over before glancing at her father.

"Daddy, do you really not like chocolate?" she asked to which he shook his head. "Then can Rogan have your pancakes?"

When he nodded, Rogan bounced excitedly while Vaughn smiled a bit. Paul though was still a bit out of it that day and said mostly nothing other than to ask Rogan if he'd woken the other kids in the basement when he got up.

"Nope," he said with a shake of his head. "I don't think so."

"Good." Pop-Tarts were definitely his plan when questioned on where breakfast for the others were, but Paul also knew if Aurora or Murphy specifically asked for food, then he'd make it for them. He wouldn't want to, at all, he hardly wanted to make Vaughn her breakfast, but he'd still do it. If they just stayed asleep instead, that would be for the best. "Keep them that way."

Vince was up though, before they got breakfast all ready, but he didn't eat pancakes, he informed Vaughn when she asked, much less ones with chocolate chips in them. Still, he told Paul that he'd make breakfast for the other kids, should they ask, which was good because the smell of bacon seemed to have finally wafted down to the basement as they heard some noises coming from other parts of the house.

Taking their food with them, both of the family babies followed Paul out to the back deck, him carrying the can of whipped cream and bottle of syrup for them.

"Here." Paul went back inside before quickly returning with glasses of juice for the kids. "Got all you need?"

As Vaughn nodded, Rogan asked, "You're not eatin', Uncle Paul?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Oh." He frowned a bit, but his attention was taken as Vaughn took to covering her two chocolate pancakes with whipped cream, Rogan immediately wishing to do the same.

Having him out there was probably for the best, as it kept Paul from having to keep Vaughn entertained.

Paul knew that everything going on was hard on everyone, but he figured it was most shocking to Vaughn and Rogan. They were the youngest and, obviously, the least in the know in many cases. Steph's sickness was no different. They probably knew the least.

Which wasn't fair, Paul knew. They weren't _that_ much younger than their siblings. At all. But enough to count.

Shane and Marissa dealt with telling their sons about how sick their aunt was, but Paul and Steph, of course, were the ones to break it to each daughter.

They handled it differently for each one.

Aurora had already overheard them, previously, when they first found out, so they more or less just kind of went back over things with her again.

She had a lot of questions.

"Are you gonna die?"

She was real upset, too, when she asked that. Paul and Steph had gone into her room (knocking first, which was a big deal, to Aurora, and a rule that she frequently scolded anyone in the house on should they not follow it) to have the conversation and were still there.

Steph was sitting on the bed with her while Paul kind of walked around, pacing, as he'd found himself doing a lot of in that time, but came to a stop at her words.

They'd led off, or Steph had, rather, as she was typically better at explaining things to Aurora (he was best with his younger daughters), with just what type of cancer she had and what sorts of things would be going on, the next few weeks or months, as they dealt with it. When she stopped speaking though, Aurora wasted no time in asking that.

For Christmas, she'd gotten a lot of cool things, mostly electronics, but Paul's mother, who had no delusions of ever being able to keep up with Vince McMahon in the presents department, had gotten all of his girls this really big stuffed animals for Christmas. Even though Aurora probably would have rebuked him, had he given her such a gift (stuffed animals were for babies...until you tried to rearrange the ones that she kept in her room), at the moment, she was cuddling up her stuffed dragon to her chest and staring heavily at her mother.

Stephanie didn't know what to say though, to that, and looked to her husband who, still just standing there, let out a long breath.

"Everyone's gonna die, Rora," he told her softly then because he didn't want to tell her no, given what he was slowly learning about Steph's affliction. _He_ didn't think she was going to die, but also knew that Aurora wasn't a little kid; she was going to fact check them, no doubt, on the internet that night and look up everything they hadn't told her. Lying to her would only make her upset. "Eventually."

"Paul." Steph, however, didn't like that approach. "Honestly."

"What?" Coming over to the bed, he had Aurora's eyes then as he returned the stare with rather heavy eyes himself. "But if you're asking, Aurora, if something's gonna happen, like, right this moment? No. Steph's fine. She hardly even feels sick. Right, Steph?"

"W-Well-"

"So you're not gonna die?" Aurora turned back to her mother then. "You're gonna get better?"

"I didn't say that," Paul answered for his wife as he moved to sit down on the bed too. It was hardly big enough for this and he had to pull Aurora up against him a bit, but she didn't seem to mind. She didn't cuddle against him, like she once would have, when she was younger, but she didn't completely detest him yet.

Vince always told him that wouldn't be for another two years.

Hopefully.

"I just said," he told his daughter gently, "that she's not doing so bad right now. And...and there's still a chance that, you know, the treatment that they give her is gonna work."

A slim one, as he and Steph had both been told before. Her stage was too advanced, in most cases, but that still didn't make sense to Paul, so he was just ignoring it.

Nodding along, Stephanie reached over to grab Aurora's hands and grin rather widely at her. Even though it wasn't returned, she only said, "You know as well as I do that people get sick all the time. And they get better. They-"

"But you're not just sick. You have-"

"It doesn't matter." The arm Paul had around his daughter tightened its hold before he said, "I know this is really sudden and scary and… We don't know a lot yet either, Rora. This all just happened in the past two weeks. It's not even New Years yet. Just give us some time to get everything figured out and we'll keep you in on everything that's going on."

"Everything?" she repeated, tilting her head up to look at him and, solemnly, her father nodded while her mother's grin only slowly fell.

"Everything." Leaning down, he nuzzled his forehead against hers. "Promise."

The other two had their own questions.

Murphy had one that she thought was super important.

"Are you gonna throw up a lot?"

Steph made a face too, when she asked this. They told her later in the day than Aurora, while she was very busy in the backyard, playing with Andre. It was cold out, so she was all bundled up in her coat and mittens, but was enjoying very much making snowballs and throwing them up in them air for the puppy to try and catch.

For such a big dog, she thought that Andre did very well at jumping.

"What?" Stephanie made a face at her, arms crossed tightly around herself. It was freezing out, to her, Paul was sure, even with her heavy coat, but they thought that it would be best to tell their middle daughter when she was distracted with something else. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because," she said, hardly looking at her parents as she bent over to form a new snowball as Andre sat at her feet, waiting, "throwing up is nasty."

"Murphy." Paul said her name as a command and it got her to drop the snow in her hands just to stare up at him with wide eyes. Andre, hearing that tone, popped up and ran off, further into the yard, and far away from their clearly grumpy father. "This isn't the time to be...silly. We're trying to tell you something important."

'But I wasn't! I-"

Shoving her husband a bit, Stephanie leaned down so that she could stare at her daughter before saying, "I don't know yet, baby, how sick I'm gonna get. We just wanted to tell you what it was and answer any quest-"

"I asked a question and I got in trouble." She crossed her arms and glared up at Paul. "So I don't want to ask anymore."

Returning the glare, Paul said, "You were being silly and you know it."

"I was not!"

"Paul, just apologize."

"What?" He handed Murphy her glaring victory as he broke off his end to make a face at his wife. "Why would I-"

"Just," Steph said as she straightened once more, "do it. If that was something that she wanted to know, there's nothing wrong with it. Okay, Murphy?"

She turned her nose up to them. "I wanna hear Daddy say it."

"You women are impossible." Still, though he continued to glare, Paul said, "Fine. I'm sorry, Murphy, for not taking you serious when you were being silly."

Steph was about to reprimand him again, no doubt, but Murphy only hear the apologetic first half and, given it was all she cared about, accepted his apology.

Nodding her head, she dropped her crossed arms before saying, "I gotta lotta questions, Mommy."

"Like what?"

"Are you gonna stay home now?" she asked in a rather sweet voice that made Paul roll his eyes. She'd zapped all the seriousness out of her father. "Or do you still gotta go to shows? I stay home when I'm sick."

"I'm not the normal type of sick, honey," her mother explained. "And right now, I don't know what I'm going to do about work, but-"

"Not go." Her husband decided to answer that portion for her. "To shows and stuff. Or even the office, I figure, a lot."

"Paul-"

"You're going to be getting treatment and stuff." He even shrugged at his wife. "And when you're not, you're not supposed to be around a lot of people."

"A lot of people try and work through chemo."

"A lot of people don't have pancreatic cancer. Not even five years ago, they'd have told you that you had a month to live and that would have been that. So-"

"That's not true, you know it, and that's really not something we should be talking about right now."

They both glanced at Murphy again then, but she was still just standing there, waiting for her question to be answered.

"Mommy will be home more," Paul told their daughter with a nod of his head. "Murph."

"Will you just stay in your room though? And be sick? Or will you be able to play?"

The hard hitting questions, his middle daughter was concerned with.

Paul figured they should just be glad that she wasn't as blunt as Aurora.

Or worldly enough to know that her older sister's question existed.

She had quite a few followup questions, Paul recalled, but no one had as many as Vaughn.

They talked to her in the playroom that night, where she was very busy coloring in some new coloring book she'd gotten for Christmas. Mandating that if they were to stay, they had to color too, Steph had a picture of Santa Claus while Paul got Rudolph.

He purposely colored the nose green, just to get on Vaughn's nerves.

It work.

As they were on their second pages each, Steph changed the flow of conversation away from the New Years Eve party Vince was having on Saturday that they were going to and onto the topic they'd gone in there about.

The information that they'd passed down had gotten more rudimentary with each child and, for Vaughn, they mostly just talked about how, starting after New Years, Mommy was going to be getting treatments where they'd try and make her feel better.

"Will it take very long?" she asked as they all laid there, on the floor, coloring. Paul was a bit uncomfortable, on his stomach, but his wife and daughter seemed to prefer sitting like this, so he went along with it. "For you to get better?"

"I don't know yet," Stephanie told her as the six year old stared at her with big eyes. "But no matter how long it takes, it's gonna make me feel a bit bad, probably, at first. So you need to be a big girl, okay, for-"

"Why would it make you feel bad? If it's supposed to make you feel better?"

"You know how when you're sick? And you have to take medicine? And you don't like the taste, so you drink tons of Sprite right after, to make it go away?" When she nodded, Steph said, "It's a lot stronger medicine, so it'll feel real bad for a bit. And Sprite probably won't help."

"You don't think you can just get better on your own?"

"I know that I can't."

"You're not gonna be like Bluto, are you?" Vaughn pushed up then with a frown. "You said he'd get better too, but then you took him to the vet and he never came back."

Steph made a soft noise then while Paul only took over by saying, "Vaughn, Bluto was a dog."

Which didn't acknowledge her very real question that, honestly, even during that time, Steph and Paul both knew was probably how things were all going to go down.

She wasn't going to get better.

They hadn't said that to one another yet, but both had been looking into it and come to the same conclusion, Paul was certain. There really wasn't a cure, at the point she was at, for what she had growing inside of her. Slim chances are remission. The doctor hadn't explicitly told them yet, though they were just waiting for it, that, really, the treatments she was about to begin were kind of just overture. It wouldn't do much, more than likely, and they'd move away from chemo and focus more on a radiation or combination of the two. Not to defeat the cancer, but mostly just to numb whatever pain there was and deter the inevitable for as long as possible.

They'd get through January before they admitted this reality to one another.

June before they did to their kids.

But at the moment it was still 2016 and Steph was able to add to her husband's statement, "And dog's go to vets. I'm going to doctors. There's a difference."

This wouldn't have worked on Aurora. Probably not Murphy either, if she'd thought of it.

But Vaughn was six. And very trusting, even, for a six year old. More so than either of his other daughters had been. She was the baby of the family and got treated as such frequently.

So she didn't have to worry about things.

Her parents took care of her and frequently promised to never let anything happen to her.

Why not believe them then?

Without realizing that they hadn't explicitly told her that Steph wouldn't go to the hospital one day and never come back, Vaughn assumed their words meant this was never going to happen and that she had nothing to be concerned about.

"Okay," she said as slowly she fell back to the floor. Glancing over at her father's coloring page, she made a face before saying, "And you can't color Frosty blue, Daddy!"

Having to swallow first, as they'd just escaped a very sticky situation, Paul only remarked, "I can color him whatever I want."

"You're just supposed to color his hat and his scarf! Not him!"

"I can do whatever I-"

"Vaughn." Stephanie wasn't letting them devolve, apparently, into a conversation about the ethics involved in purposely mis-coloring beloved Christmas-themed characters. When her youngest looked at her again, she asked, "Is there anything else you wanna ask me? About what's going to happen?"

Oh, yes. Certainly.

She had more than any of the other two girls. She asked about what was making her mother sick and what they were going to do to make it better. How come she got sick? Could she transfer it to the others in the house? Would she still be able to go to the New Years Eve party? Eat ice cream? What about drink sodas? Did she think they could have ice cream and sodas at the New Years Eve party?

Five pages of horribly colored Christmas characters later on Paul's part, he and his wife were able to leave Vaughn to her own bidding.

Paul was still up, in his office, that same night when Aurora came to him. She had the tablet that Vince bought her for her past birthday regardless of the fact that Paul asked him not to (for the man that hated anything electrical, Vince shoved it down his grandchildren's throats at every turn) and brought it over with a search result brought up on the browser.

Glaring at him, she only let him glance over her results before saying, "You said she wouldn't die."

Breath catching, he tried, "Aurora," but she didn't let him finish.

"You said you'd tell me everything."

"I did tell you everything."

"You didn't tell me that everyone that has stage four-"

"They don't all die." He knew that's what was bothering her, given that she'd literally searched survival rates.

He figured that she'd gotten to searching that after searching something else. Probably just general information on pancreatic cancer. Paul thought the world of Aurora, but he also knew that 'survival rate' probably wasn't a term that she knew off the top of her head. She'd have no reason to.

She had, however, found it and now found the information to prove one thing.

"You're a liar."

"I am not." Paul sat her tablet to the side. "And don't call me that. Ever again. You're not-"

"Is she really gonna get better?"

"I don't know, Aurora. Yes. Maybe. I'm not God. I'm not a doctor." He sat back some, in his chair, and at one time she'd have already gotten into his lap for such a long conversation, but she was ten, then, and wouldn't do that anymore.

Rather, she just stood there, beside him, glaring.

"But everything we told you was true," Paul went on. "Honest. She's gonna get some rounds of chemo and then we'll decide what to do next."

Not saying anything, she narrowed her eyes before moving to snatch back her tablet and run off, out of the room, and leave him alone.

The next day was a taping, for NXT, so he really needed to finish up what he was doing in his office and go to bed, but he couldn't. After Aurora left, Paul sat there, for awhile, with his elbows resting against his knees, staring miserably at the door she'd shut behind her, not really thinking about anything.

Just…

When he finally did leave his downstairs office and head up the stairs, Steph was in bed, but woke up at the sound of him roaming around the room, getting ready to go to sleep himself.

"You know," she whispered softly as he joined her in the bed, "we'd just now be heading downstairs, to workout, usually."

"It's the holidays; we wouldn't make Joe show up during Christmas time."

"We'd still workout, at least."

"At least."

And Steph smiled at him, then, but Paul was mostly just watching her face, trying to judge as he had since the whole thing started, if he could tell that she'd lost all that weight she was always talking about.

Was he a bad husband?

That he hadn't noticed?

Paul wanted to tell her then, as her big blue eyes were on him, about how Rora had come to him and called him a liar and she'd only done that once before, when she was five and he'd broken a promise about taking her somewhere because Vaughn had caught the cold that Steph had and he had to stay home and take care of them, because it was Vaughn's first time being sick, and he'd gotten on to her about it. Calling him that. Big time. She hadn't since.

But she did then.

And wasn't he?

Wasn't he a liar?

He knew about those statistics beforehand.

He knew that a lot of people didn't make it over five years with pancreatic cancer. A good number didn't come out of the first year, when that had stage four b, like Steph had. And he hadn't told Aurora that. Because she was only ten.

Should he have?

Whether she was old enough to cope with it or not, he knew, even then, that she was going to have to learn, pretty quick, because things were going to get bad, way worse, before they got better. If they ever get better.

And as he sat there, with Vaughn and Rogan, numbly watching them eat her birthday breakfast, he knew, of course, that for Steph, it hadn't gotten any better, but back then, even when there was a tiny, little bitty chance that it could, should he have still told Aurora the worst of it? That she probably wasn't going to pull through?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But there was one thing that he knew he couldn't do, as they laid there, next to one another, in the cold of an eastern winter, and it was one that he certainly didn't regret, as he sat out on the deck, the heat of summer's end on his back, with his daughter and nephew.

Paul didn't tell Steph. That Aurora was upset. That she called him a liar. Because he knew that Aurora wouldn't go to her mother with it. She came to him for a reason. And she'd keep coming to him, he was certain. For the same reason he wouldn't repeat any of it to Stephanie.

Because she was dying. They were all dying, but Steph was seriously dying, and to bother her more than need be during that time wasn't acceptable. Even his ten year old knew that.

"I can go downstairs," Stephanie was saying as he only laid there, thinking more than listening. "And watch you workout. If you wanna. But I'm too tired to-"

"I wanna just lay here." He let out a long breath, Steph scowling at this as he blew it inadvertently right in her face. "With you. Tonight. And I don't have to go to the taping, tomorrow, if you-"

"Yes, you do." She shifted closer, but lower (probably in case he tried to breathe on her again; he probably needed a mint), her head coming to rest against his chest. He figured he should just be glad that she wasn't hammering him like she had before, when they were outside with Murph, about working. "You always need to. You know that."

"Steph-"

"If you don't," she warned through a yawn, "my evil brother will take NXT from you."

Paul blinked before grinning. "Your evil brother, huh?"

"Mmmhmm." Steph nuzzled against him. "Then, Vince will be ready to hand over RAW and Smackdown and he'll take those too."

"Don't sound much like him."

"Laugh, if you want, but those are going to be the first plot lines Vince will use, now that I'm not gonna be able to...to..."

"You're gonna be able to do everything you want, Steph." Bowing his own head, Paul buried a nose in her hair before whispering against it, "I promise."

He was a liar. He knew it, she knew it, and Aurora definitely knew it, but sometimes it was necessary.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

Like right then.

"Hmmm?" Glancing down at Vaughn and Rogan, he found them both staring at him.

"I asked if you were sure you didn't want some of my pancakes," Vaughn explained. Rogan was even holding out the can of whipped cream to the man, in case he wanted to take a hit. "But you didn't hear me."

"I'm sorry. I's just thinkin'."

Vaughn stared hard up at him for a moment, as if conflicted, before asking, "About what?"

"About how much fun we're going to have at your birthday party."

A year ago, even the mention of her party would have set the little girl off into excited giggles and decries of how much better it would be than the lame parties they'd had back in July (for, obviously, Murphy and Aurora, as well as her father).

She wasn't nearly as happy, however, about her upcoming party.

Still, Vaughn nodded some before saying, "Then you don't want any pancakes?"

"No, baby," he told her as Rogan slowly sat the whipped cream can down. "You guys eat them. Alright? Then we all gotta go get ready for the day, huh?"

Both children nodded and went back to their birthday breakfast while Paul went back to watching the by then risen sun.

It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

It was never going to go well.

Paul had known that. Even as he was calling everyone, to tell them about it, he knew that it was going to be a complete and utter failure.

Vaughn's birthday fell just under three weeks since Stephanie's passing. There were two options on how to handle it. Treat it as usual and have a party or, like he wanted, just kind of do something with the girls just the four of them. If even that.

Instead, however, he was forced to do the former.

Because that's what Steph told him to do.

She wasn't well, back in June, and was actually speaking on Aurora and Murphy's approaching birthdays in July, which she was just barely able to attend before...before.

After, she gave him a very blanketed statement that, no matter what, whenever it...happened, that they shouldn't change what they usually do. That it wouldn't be good for the girls.

Vaughn's birthday included.

So, even though his stomach knotted up a bit, he conceded to his wife's infinite wisdom on any and everything dealing with their girls. She was better at knowing what they needed.

Or she had been.

And she told him to do it.

Still, Paul took some liberties. He decided that they wouldn't have it at the house, where the girls had most of their birthday parties, and rather up at the lake house. It was still haunting there, of course, to be without their mother, but while her presence was definitely associated with the lake house, it wasn't as ever-present as it was in their home.

It also, however, gave him the very big out of not having to invite any of Vaughn's friends (or the other girls, as they usually allowed them to have some too, just to be fair), considering they would be in New Hampshire, at the lake house, and not at home in Connecticut. He wasn't so sure that the girls were ready for that sort of big celebratory thing yet.

Or, at the very least, he wasn't.

And even though he really wasn't too big on have some family get-together either, it was manageable for the man. He knew it would be good for his daughters.

Err, he tried to convince himself of this. But in the back of his mind, he had some uneasy feelings about the whole thing.

A lot of which had to do with the girls themselves.

They were, of course, all three dealing with things very separately and he was still figuring all of it out. With a week before school began, he was running out of time to get it all sorted out before sending them back out into the world.

While a weekend of steady contact between them and their extended family would be a good trial run, at the same time, Paul was just a bit...cautious.

With good reason.

It was Murphy, probably, that gave him the most reservations. Though the other two weren't making things easy (Aurora was basically completely shutting him out and Vaughn hardly let him out of her sight), Murphy wasn't known for handling any sort of situation well.

And her mother's passing was more than just a stressful situation.

Which is why, as he feared, the party was not without its meltdown.

Although, Paul would admit, it wasn't over something he once thought it would be.

"You ready to open your presents?"

That's what his mother asked Vaughn as the party progressed. They were out from the house a bit, near the lake, where they'd set up some tables and chairs and things. Paul was mostly just sitting around, trying not to feel miserable while balancing his increasing annoyance over the fact that no one was buying it and therefore felt the need to constantly come up and pat him on the shoulder and all that bullshit.

It was hard enough to deal with right after. It had been three weeks.

When would people just leave him alone?

Vince grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for the kids, as well as some of those spicy sausages and stuff that were mostly for him, unless Linda griped about him eating too much, in which anyone could have one.

Aurora, in fact, brought him one of those spicy bratwursts, when he was sitting alone, in one of the chairs, mostly watching Vaughn chase Andre around the yard with her cousins while sipping on some water and hoping his sister-in-law wouldn't try to come comfort him again by 'talking things out'.

Stephanie was dead.

Talking about it wasn't going to change that.

Anyhow, he was sitting there when Aurora just came up, with a plate. On it were some chips and some dip as well as a bun housing one of those sausages. His daughter knew him, as well as anyone, if not more, and had put both ketchup and mustard on it, because he was an equal opportunist.

Even though he wasn't really hungry, he managed a very forced grin for her.

"You didn't have to bring me this," he told her, though Aurora only stood there, before him, as he sat in his chair, watching him. 'Honest, Rora; I'dda gotten my own food eventually."

Shrugging a bit, she went off, after that, back over to where his sister's daughter was. Aurora typically found herself above the juvenile antics of the other children, when she was around her older cousin's on her father's side.

And Paul ate, of course, even though he didn't want to, because he knew that Aurora would be watching to be sure that he did and didn't want to upset her.

Murphy, for most of the party, seemed to be off playing by herself a lot. Paul would only spot her randomly, mostly away from them, more over in the trees, climbing on and around them. He figured this should worry him, maybe, but she'd always been better off by herself. She liked to explore, around the lake, and as long as he could always see her, she was fine.

She was kind of like Andre, in that regard.

But she couldn't stay by herself forever. It was time for cake and ice cream, eventually, which meant that it was also time for presents.

Honestly, by that point, Paul thought that they were in the clear. He knew that some young children, at times, could get jealous if another child got gifts that they didn't or something of that sort, but his daughters weren't typically like that. They were probably spoiled, of course, as their parents (and grandparents) had quite a lot of money and their names alone held value, but they weren't brats. Not by a long shot.

It was Vaughn's birthday so therefore, they all knew she'd be getting presents.

No big deal.

...Until it became a very big deal.

They all sat around, the adults in the chairs and the children in the grass, making a semi-circular shape, while Vaughn sat in the center, of course, being presented all her gifts. Andre sat with her and kind of got in the way, but she was excited to show off her gifts to him too. They started with the small things, that the other kids had gotten her and things were going fine.

Different, of course, and quite noticeably so, to Paul at least, as they were certainly without someone, but not completely terrible. Steph wasn't there, to giggle and snicker to Paul when they sang Happy Birthday or pass the gifts to Vaughn and mock that fake surprise she was so good at, but…

Vaughn didn't look miserable. Maybe not as happy as she was in the previous years, but not completely distraught and lost.

It was…

They could do it, he knew then. Well, he'd known they could, of course, but it was nice to be for certain that they could have this still.

That they were still family. And could have family moments. Complete family moments. With Steph's and his. It would never be the same, but it could be something of its own.

But, of course, all good things come to an end. Quite abruptly, in fact, on that occasion.

It was time for the big gift. The one that Vaughn's parents had gotten her. And, as Paul pushed up to go get it, he was feeling foolish, for worrying. The party was at its closure and things were fine. He was fine. The girls hadn't cried the entire day. Or even seemed particularly sad. They were all getting what they needed. Vaughn was getting to play with the boys, which she always liked, Aurora got to see Paul's niece Neysa which she always loved, and Murphy just seemed to be benefiting from being out of that dang house.

It was all good. It was all so good.

Until it wasn't.

They'd gotten Vaughn a new bike. A big girl bike, as Steph would have called it, because it was technically bigger than her old one and looked more like the ones that Aurora and Murphy had, back at home.

And really, it wasn't that big of a deal. It wouldn't have turned into one either, if he'd kept his big mouth shut.

Why didn't he keep his big mouth shut?

But after rushing up to the house to push the bike down there, to present to Vaughn, Paul found himself saying the one thing he shouldn't have.

"You like it?" he asked at first as she jumped up to the laughter of the adults and drips of slight envy from the other children. Kicking the kickstand down, Paul propped up the bike as Vaughn moved to climb on it. Not really sure what to say, the next part just sort of tumbled out as he said, "Mommy picked it out for you."

That.

That was what shouldn't have been said.

And Paul should have known that. Honest. Because the girls wouldn't get jealous over stupid presents, but what he said…

"Really?" And Vaughn's voice sounded small, as she asked that and Paul only nodded dumbly, not even glancing around at the others. Or Murphy, which was where his eyes should have gone. If he'd noticed her mostly natural expression she'd had for the better part of the day change into a look of annoyance, he might have known to shut it, but he didn't. "She did?"

And it just felt like the most natural thing to say. Because it would make his baby happy. On her birthday.

"Mmmhmm," Paul agreed before adding, "It was one of the last things she did."

It shocked the others, when Murphy jumped right up at that. While Paul had gone off to get the bike, Linda had given Aurora and Declan some scissors, to cut into the boxes and plastic containers that Vaughn's unwrapped gifts came in, which had been the biggest interest of Murphy, Kenny, and Rogan while the adults were more or less talking between themselves. Murphy, however, had apparently keyed back into what Paul said and caught every word.

"That's not fair!"

And she was loud about it too, yelling, getting Paul's attention finally. Murphy was glaring so heavily at he and Vaughn that, for a second, he wasn't sure what was going on.

Aurora, who was taking her job of getting her baby sister's toys all out of their boxes with as much seriousness as she took every other mundane task in life, glared just as darkly at her other younger sister then though that was because after she and Declan got the boxes open, Murphy and the younger boys were supposed to be putting together any pieces. Aurora hated slackers. "Murphy, you have to help-

"What?" Paul asked as Murphy stalked over to them and, knowing that look in her sister's eye, Vaughn jumped right off the bike, wrongfully thinking that she just wanted a chance to ride it as well. "Murph? What's wr- Hey!"

She'd come to shove over the bike, nearly doing so. She would have, had he not been still holding onto the handlebars.

"What is your-"

"She can't get something from Mom!" She shoved at it harder, but Paul was expecting it then and wouldn't let her knock it down. "That's not fair!"

"Stop it!" Vaughn didn't like the idea of her sister treating her new bike so roughly. "You-"

"You can't have it!" Now Murphy was pulling at the bike. "You shouldn't get it! That's not fair! How come she gets something from her?"

"Murphy, it's just her birthday gift." Paul was a bit in shock, honestly, and only whispered, "Knock it off. You need to calm down. It's not-"

"No! How come she gets something from- Hey!"

It was Marissa, Shane's wife, who'd come over to try and gently pull the little girl away from the bike. "Murphy, let it go. You're not-"

"No!" She shoved at her aunt too. "It's not fair! Why did she get something?"

"Because it's her birthday," Paul repeated, but it was useless, as now both of them were more than a bit worked up and, since they were all on edge to begin with, had put an immediate damper on the party. Paul's mother and Linda were coming over as well and it was just over.

It was done.

"So?" Murphy wasn't giving up though. She was upset and was going to get her point across. "I hate this stupid party! And I hate you too, Vaughn! You- Hey!"

Shane had come over and quite literally picked Murphy up, carrying her off. But by then, the damage had been down and, sobbing, Vaughn bypassed her dad and ran to the first grandparent she saw, which happened to be Paul's father.

"I didn't even want a party," she cried as he lifted her into his arms with a groan. "I didn't!"

And she hadn't. She'd told Paul that. Before. When he told them what they'd be doing for her and Vince's birthday.

But Stephanie had told him that they should have it. And Paul always did what she told him.

Even then.

Shane, not really knowing what to do either, kind of just passed Murphy off on Linda, who led Murphy away, back up to the house, Andre chasing after. Everyone else seemed most concerned with Vaughn though who, obviously, was the victim in that whole thing, but Paul only stood there, with the bike, feeling quite defeated and useless.

While the boys had gone to try and comfort Vaughn too (literally everyone else was), Aurora only stood there, scissors still in hand, watching first after Murphy and Linda and then just staring over at her father. Feeling her eyes, he stared just as blankly back because he didn't have the answers. He didn't know what to do.

Steph was the one that always knew what to do.

That was the thing, Stephanie always told him; when they were around other people, he was definitely the boss. He always had been.

But only because Stephanie liked to cave to him. To listen to him hold court, around their friends, or command control over others. It was attractive to her, how assertive he could be. How manly. How...alpha, she would giggle sometimes.

When it came to their personal life though and their families, Steph was more in control that he was. By a lot. She might like to have him over her at times, but ultimately, she was too bossy for it to go on for long.

She decided things dealing with the kids and the house and the yard and what they were doing for holidays. When they'd go to New Hampshire to see his parents. When they'd actually invite hers over instead of just waiting for Vince to pop in to catch a meal.

And that was fine. Because Steph was good about those kinds of things. She was able to balance family out with business. Paul, however, was much better at putting his all into his work and then just reaping the benefits of an organized wife by not having to worry about his home schedule; she had him covered. He knew when the girls had after school things because Steph marked them down. Knew when they were going to have a chance to visit his family (which Stephanie tried to make sure happened every other month, at least) because his wife informed him. Never had to worry about deciding where they'd take the girls for a weekend trip, because Stephanie knew.

She knew everything.

And he knew nothing.

"You just have to mark it down on the calendar," Stephanie muttered against her pillow one day when Paul came into their bedroom after being chewed out (loose term) by Vaughn over how he forgot to have someone at the house to take her to one of her dance classes. "Babe."

It was one of his new tasks. Hardly a week and a half into her treatments, Stephanie had realized that she wasn't going to be able to put in as much at work as she had nor into their home life. Paul was going to have to help her out on both ends.

And the work half? He was great at that. Dividing up what he could do to others and making sure that he got whatever he could completed.

The home half though? Not so much.

It shouldn't have been that hard. They always had help. They'd had a nanny since Aurora was a baby and more as time went on. There was someone to make most of the meals in the house (and all of Paul's carefully structured ones). They had a maid that came twice a week and some yard guys that took care of that stuff.

Paul honestly didn't think that Steph had that much to do, really, at the house. That it was all done for her. The benefits of money.

But...it wasn't all that simple.

It all still had to be organized. In a way that Paul never cared to pay attention to. Someone had to schedule when all of those things would take place, communicate to the help just what needed to be done. When it needed to be done. Find out which of the nannies could pull an extra day, when the girls had a half day of school. Make sure someone, anyone, packed Murphy an extra lunch on fieldtrip day. That someone was there to take Andre for a walk. Was he supposed to shovel the snow? Or could he ask someone else to?

There was just so much.

So very much.

The man appreciated the hell out of his wife, he always had, but he'd also underestimated just all that she did for him.

For them.

For all of them.

"The second," Steph went on, lifting her head a bit from the pillow, "you know about it. You're able to keep track of work stuff."

"That's different."

"Because it's more important?"

"No," he groaned, coming to sit on the edge of her side of the bed, so that he could reach over with a hand and rest it on her head. "Because I'm used to it. This is all new to me."

Very new.

It was February and things were still starting to settle.

It would take him till March, really, to become decent at his new positions in the household.

Just in time for spring. When there'd be the added stress of making sure the gardeners knew their jobs.

Sigh.

But back then, in February, just scheduling the girls was hard enough.

Not to mention adjusting to Steph's new...new everything.

Steph didn't want to go away, for treatment. To some other state or something. To one of those specific treatment centers. She said she just wanted to get chemo close by and be home, as much as possible.

And even though the doctor didn't exactly said it, they kind of knew that it was all just preliminary anyways and they were just going through the motions. Chemo rarely slowed the effects of pancreatic cancer much, in Steph's stage, and there was no reason to uproot her anymore than she already was by the diagnosis.

"And so she missed a stupid dance class. Who cares?" the man grumbled as, gently, he stroked at his wife's hair.

Gemzar, the main drug Steph was on, wasn't particularly known for hair loss, but he was still kind of concerned. And even though it would thin, significantly, later, back then it wasn't doing so. Honestly, Steph's biggest problem at that point was nausea.

She took something for it, after the treatment, but it wouldn't completely eliminate the problem. She felt sick for days after her IV and, for the most part, hadn't been able to do much of anything as far as work went. She went into the office some days, but missed so much so often that, typically, it was more for show than anything else.

And she'd been to RAW, that last week, but not onscreen.

She wouldn't be onscreen, actually, again.

It had kind of sucked, really, when it first broke that Steph was sick and they had to listen to it. All of it. All of the condolences and well wishes.

For Paul, anyways.

He got tired of it. Very quickly. They knew so many people, up at work and just through work, that they got tons of messages and calls and it was just…

Maybe it was selfish or possessive or something about coping, but Paul wanted to keep Steph to himself. Steph's sickness to himself. He didn't want to listen to others talk about it. Anyone. Didn't want to go down to the Performance Center and be asked questions. Or go up to the office and have people give him _that_ look.

He didn't want any of it.

Steph was his and her sickness was his too, by proxy, and just by them mentioning it, it was as if they had a hand in it too. Like they were grieving too. Praying too. And maybe they were.

But he didn't want them to.

He want to...horde Steph to himself. She belonged to him. He was going to help her get better. Or at least keep her comfortable until...until. Him. No one else.

"Vaughn. Vaughn cares," Steph yawned as he continued to stroke and her head. "And stop it. I have a headache."

"I'm comforting you."

"I don't want you to."

"Your head hurts enough that this is bothering you?"

"No, but it's keeping me awake when all I want to do is sleep."

Making a face down at her, he said, "Well, do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Steph-"

"I'm not." Letting out a slow breath, she said, "You could rub my stomach, instead, if you want."

"Of course," he whispered as she shifted, onto her back, before blinking up at him. Still seated on the edge of the bed, he grinned down at her. "What'd you do all day? This?"

"Andre and I sat outside some, when the snowing died down."

"It wasn't too cold?"

"I had my coat and things, Paul."

Nodding, he said, "Well, were you wanting to try work? In the morning? Or-"

"No." She shut her eyes as he gently pushed up her shirt before resting his hand against the cool flesh of her stomach. "I don't. Maybe...the afternoon? I don't wanna get up in the morning."

"That's okay," he breathed, stroking gently above her bellybutton. "You know that I gotta go down to Florida. Tomorrow. And Saturday I'm supposed to be in California for that meeting, but if you want-"

"You have to work, Paul." She peeked an eye open then. "Remember?"

"I know, but-"

"Always. Okay?"

"Steph, if you need me-"

"I'll always need you," she assured him as she turned her head some and seemed to settle out, to snooze some more. He only continued to rub at her stomach, never one to pass up on the feeling of her soft flesh beneath his calloused fingers. "You know that. But the company needs you more. You think Vince would stay home with Mom if-"

"Fuck Vince."

"Paul-"

"I'm serious." And he moved then, first to kick off his shoes, before to crawl gently over her and into his own spot in the bed. He was still in his shirt and pants from work, which Steph typically would scold him for, for fear of him wrinkling them (things were much easier when he wore jeans and leather jackets all day), but she seemed too tired to then. "Steph. Fuck it. Fuck it all. The company is Vince's baby."

"And ours."

"No." Resting on his side beside her, a hand fell once more to rub at her stomach as he said, "I love the heck outta that company. But you're first. My family is first. If you ever need me for something, no matter what it is, I'd drop it all. That second."

"I'd never aks you to do that."

"I know." He nodded that time. "That's why I'll decide for you."

"Paul-"

"I'm serious." Hand still on her stomach, he said, "If this is really… If you're really not gonna… I'd rather spend as much as it with you as I can."

"Don't-"

"I'm just telling you." And his head fell then, to a pillow, though he kept his hand on her stomach. "Steph. I'd give up everything for NXT and the company, except you." That time, he let out an odd mixture of a laugh and a snort. "It's, like, the most fucked up job ever, for something like this. I constantly have to be somewhere other than with you. Than where I want to be."

"It's quite demanding," she agreed as he nuzzled his head gently against hers. Blinking her eyes open, she grinned softly. "I'll give you that."

"It's impossible. If I just had a normal job, where I could come home every night at the end of the night and get normal freaking off days, then.." He nuzzled her again. "Could you imagine if, like, back in '01, I had just been finished with it all?"

"Finished with what?" Steph whispered. "Going back into the ring?"

"With it all."

"You'd have never-"

"I thought about it."

"You thought about if you couldn't come back from your quad tear, yeah," she agreed. "If you couldn't come back and be an in-ring presence, but-"

"I thought about it all, Stephanie," he told her softly. "About if I was just done with WWE...WWF, then, I guess."

Then they both paused and stared at one another before, at the same time, saying,

"Get the eff out."

More nuzzles. Softly, Paul said, "There's absolutely no one else that gets me like you do."

"I don't think saying generic wrestling references is quite getting you, but-"

"I thought about just being done with the whole thing, was what I was trying to tell you," he said then. "Just walking away from it. When I was feeling real low and you were on the road and shit and I was alone. Just...not even trying to come back."

This didn't shock Stephanie as she could recall, back then, just how down on himself the man could become, but still she paused before asking, "What kind of job does Triple H apply for/ exactly, Paul?"

"I thought about just running gyms and shit like that."

"What about me?"

"You'dda still been there." Even more nuzzles. He was cuddly, it seemed, that day. "You came and saw me constantly, even though you had your own life, when I was holed up in that hotel room. After my surgery. I'm sure you'd have done the same, if I just quit the company."

"Don't you know that Daddy was just sending me there to be sure that you didn't do that? It wasn't a choice, you know, going to see you. More of a job, really."

"You're becoming a job, today," he grumbled softly, kissing her on the nose that time. "But seriously, think about it. How different things would have been. If I'd just walked away from it. We'd have had way more time together. Especially if you'd quit the company too."

Frowning, she asked, "What would I have done then?"

"Worked at one of my gyms for me. Stayed home. Had my babies. Whatever."

"Yeah, because completely altering our history together couldn't have possibly led to our relationship turning out completely different. If not ruining it. Haven't you ever see literally any time travel movie? Ever?"

"No matter how altered the timeline is, Steph, you're still mine. And sticking with me." Still stroking at her stomach, he said, "My point though was that we'd have so much more time to spend together. To do things together. We-"

"All you ever wanted was what you have now. What you're gonna get." She was trying not to sound tired, but it was coming off as forced and he knew that she'd be passing back out soon enough. "You're gonna get the company, Paul and control everything and-"

"No, I'm not."

"Well, I mean, fine, it's not exactly that simple with shareholders and-"

"No, Steph, I mean I'm not getting it." He let out a soft breath. "It's yours. I was never getting it. You get it and I-"

"Paul, you know that I don't-"

"It's not mine. It's yours. If this damn chemo would just work, then-"

"Shhh." Reaching down, she laid her hand over his then, stilling it. "Just… I'm too tired to do anything with the girls today. You have to make sure they finish all their homework, okay? And I think you're on your own for dinner with them tonight, right?"

The woman was getting chemicals injected into her and still knew the house schedule better than him.

It was maddening.

"Am I?"

"You have to start writing on the-"

"Calendar, I know." Nuzzling one last time against her, he said, "Vaughn's mad at me."

"She'll get over it."

"Right. Because ti's just a stupid dance class."

"No." Reaching up that time, she ran a thumb across his fuzzy chin. "Because you're Daddy. Tell me one time that any of them had stayed mad at you for more than an hour?"

"Mmmm… Aurora can get pretty snippy, at times, when she thinks I'm goofing off too much."

"That's because she runs the house better than you."

"Most anyone can."

Letting her hand fall, Stephanie only said, "If you're not busy-"

"Why? Do you need something? What-"

"-take Vaughn out to play in the snow. Just for a little bit." She grinned at him. "And the other two too, if they want. And the dog, of course."

Paul made a face at the suggestion. Growing up in the north, cold wasn't a big factor to him, but not always something that he desired. Especially that day, when all he wanted was to sit around in bed with his wife.

"Of course." He gave her stomach another pat before shifting away from the woman a bit and sitting up. "You think this'll get Murph to stop being mad at me too?"

"Why is she mad at you?"

"Just a random question."

"Paul-"

"I can't," he griped, "be expected to listen to every single story they have. She accused me of not listening to her, which I wasn't, because I was busy on my phone, and now she's all-"

"It'll fix it," Steph said as he slipped out of bed. "That's all they want, Paul. To spend time with you. It fixes everything."

But it didn't. And it never had. Steph fixed everything. Paul just kind of fell into her plans and watched them work around him.

So he didn't know what to do, about Vaughn being so upset. Because she was right; she had asked to not have a birthday party. She didn't want one. She didn't want to have a party and feel happy and get presents. She missed her mother and didn't wanna see everyone. But he talked her into it. And now she was miserable and that was his fault.

He didn't know what to do about Murphy either. Because he knew that it was hurtful, that everything was, but especially that in her mind Vaughn was getting something special from Steph. Never mind that her birthday had been even more special, as Stephanie had actually been there, been with her. Because that was so far in the past that it didn't count. What mattered was that Stephanie had gotten Vaughn something and not her. And if he hadn't said anything, she wouldn't be so distraught over it.

Mostly though, Paul didn't know what to do about Aurora. The other two would come down off their emotions, but he knew as she ignored Vaughn (who didn't notice, of course, as she was getting loads of attention else where) and ran off eventually, after Murphy and her grandmother, to go fix that problem instead that he was falling into a very sticky trap.

Aurora wasn't Steph and it wasn't her job to take care of them. To make sure that he ate and that Murphy stopped having these big blow up moments. She shouldn't have to make sure, later, when they were back in the house, that Vaughn was okay and to explain to her that Murphy was just upset, that was all.

She was just a kid, just like Vaughn and Murphy, and he couldn't let her act like she wasn't. She wasn't supposed to take care of them. He was supposed to take care of her.

But…

Paul only went to go sit back down and wait for things to calm back down because he wasn't good at those things. He wasn't good at anything.

Except for wrestling.

And those sorts of things.

Not girls. And emotions. And feelings. Not even his own feelings. All the planning Steph had done with him, for after she...died and here he was, fucking it all up already.

And he wasn't even working. Anymore. Not since Steph had died. Even a few weeks before. He'd hardly even answered any emails. He was pissing Vince off, he knew, but he just couldn't.

He…

Murphy was right. None of it was fair. It was complete shit.

That was all there was to it.


	4. Chapter 4

He was useless, truly, down near the lake.

Paul didn't typically deal with the girls when they were crying over silliness. That was their mother's deal. When they were hurt or something, truly upset about something, then he'd try to be a comfort to them, but he usually wasn't for his oldest and youngest. Aurora typically saw crying in front of him as something that he'd look down on her for and would only try to force herself to stop, no matter what it was that was causing the problem, even if she was crying over being wounded or something, and that was no good. Then Vaughn, well, he just never knew what it was that it took to calm her down. At all. She was definitely his 'princess' out of the three of them and, by proxy, his attempts at fixing her tears usually resulted in more, as she'd only turn into an even bigger baby around him.

Murphy though, Paul knew about.

Which is why he left Vaughn to the others and started the short trek back up to the house, to at least attempt to tackle the side of the problem he had a shot at fixing.

Granted, not a big one, but still.

She was up on the porch, seated on the steps. The porch was rather grand (Steph had taken Levesque as her name, of course, but Paul had also married into the McMahon lifestyle) and the steps were broken up into sets. There were five, then a little landing, then five more, another landing, and finally a set that led down to the ground. Murphy was seated on the top set and Linda was before her, on the landing, bent over some to stare down at her middle granddaughter.

Murphy was pouting, in that way that she did when she was upset, where there were some tears, but not many, and her face was red, but her eyes were set in a deep glare, which at the moment was directed at her grandmother. Arms crossed over her chest, Paul could hear her voice more than Linda's as he approached, but his mind was so jumbled that her words were mostly useless.

"Hey," he called out as he came closer to the bottom set of steps. He wasn't sure what he was going to say or who he was going to say it to, but the one thing that he did know was that Murphy should not be talking to her grandmother the way that she was and that he should probably be putting an end to it.

But he didn't say anymore, even as Murphy and Linda both stared down at him. Instead, Paul was focusing then on the actual porch, above him, instead of his daughter and mother-in-law, finding then where Aurora had gotten off to.

She was leaning over the porch railing then, at the sound of his voice, and staring down at him as he called out. Andre was up there with her, his head pressed up against the bars of the railing, trying desperately to squeeze it through there like he had been able to do, less than a year ago, when he was much smaller. But he was a big dog then, whether he wanted to believe it or not.

Paul's eyes weren't on the canine, however, and remained up on his oldest daughter's as they both watched one another, as if waiting for something. When he said nothing more though, Aurora pushed back from the porch railing and went off, further back onto the structure until he couldn't see her. It was only once he heard the backdoor slide open and shut that he knew she'd gone off into the house.

"I didn't do anything wrong, Daddy." Murphy was forcing his attention back to her then, quite effectively. "It's not fair!"

With a sigh, Paul headed up the steps then, to stand on the landing with his mother-in-law. To his daughter, he said, "Murphy, Mommy was actually at your birthday party. She...couldn't be at Vaughn's. Do you honestly think that you don't have it better?"

She wasn't one for reasoning though. Still just sitting there, she only glared up at the man. "I don't care! Why did she pick out something for Vaughn and not me?"

"Murphy," Linda tsked as she stood straight once more. "You know that Stephanie didn't-"

"It's not," she continued to insist, "fair!"

The backdoor opened again then before either of the adults could respond and Aurora came back out, something in her hand.

"Here." She came to stand behind Murphy and, avoiding the adult's eyes, held out the plate she was holding to her younger sister. "Just eat this and feel better."

It was cake.

Err, well, part of it.

The majority of the cake was down at the lake, but there was a second cake, a strawberry one, in the house that hadn't been brought down. Paul's mother had brought it as backup, as there were so many of them in the house, in case there wasn't enough of Vaughn's birthday cake.

Knowing his family, there wouldn't be.

Sniffling, Murphy reached for the cake, Aurora having to shove Andre away when he tried to stick his snout in it, before the oldest of the Levesque girls passed her father and grandmother on the landing and walked down the steps, no doubt back to the party.

Then there were three.

Andre whining for some of that cake reminded Paul that, actually, there were four.

Still, Paul was intent on making it three as, while his daughter glared at her cake, he said to mother-in-law, "Thanks, but I think that Murph and I need to...talk alone." Then, slipping his hands into his pockets, he shrugged a bit. "She'll be back down in a minute."

Linda looked to her granddaughter though before asking, "Are you going to be okay?"

No. Paul could tell from the look on Murphy's face this wasn't true. But at the same time, she favored him over all others (which Steph would usually say was imagined and him just believing his own hype, but it was true; maybe not for the other two, but with this one, it was). He might not be able to fix what was wrong, but he'd be better at at least getting her somewhat in a better place over another.

Still, Linda waited until the girl nodded and, with a deep breath, she headed back down the steps, leaving the father and daughter alone.

With Andre.

Who was still pretty insistent that he too deserved some cake.

He was even sitting, having gotten onto the landing with Paul, and staring up at Murphy with his best begging face.

It didn't pan out for him though.

If Paul wasn't there, he might just snatch the cake off the plate and ran for it, but his daddy probably wouldn't take too keenly to that. At all. And Andre definitely didn't wanna piss him off if his mother wasn't around to protect him.

He might _yell_ at him.

The horror.

"Come on." Paul nodded up the stairs. "Let's go inside and talk."

"No."

"Murph-"

"I hate Vaughn."

"You do not."

"Yes, I do! She-"

"She didn't do anything, Murph. I just… I told her that because… It was just to make her feel better." His hands fell out of his pockets and he only stood before her, feeling a bit more defeated by the moment. "And I'm sorry if that made you feel bad, Murph. Mommy just told me to get her the bike; that's all. And I did. That's it. That's all. Alright? You know that she was...right before… And Murph, you can't get upset about things like this. You know that Steph...loved you or whatever it is that you're not feeling right now. I…"

And he was breathing heavily, out of his mouth, but had nothing to say, really, because it was hard enough for him, as it were, to care about things at the moment, but factor in something as stupid as…

He knew why Murphy was upset. Honest. But at the same time, he was struggling with coming up with enough empathy for the situation. It was...draining. Above all else, dealing with all this had been extremely draining. It would be one thing if he had one daughter or two, but three? With vastly different personalities? That were all grieving at the same time, but in different ways that he was just supposed to figure out all on his own?

Giving up, because he was so good at that those days, Paul finally said, "You're right, Murph. It was stupid of me to say. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. But Vaughn needed that, okay? So… C'mere."

"No. I-"

"Murphy." There was no affliction in his voice, but still, just the sound of her name got the girl to stop whining. "C'mere."

They walked back up the steps, her in front of him, still holding her plate in her hands which was enough incentive for Andre to follow along. With Murphy so upset though, Paul figured the dog wasn't going anywhere anyways.

He took her into the house and up the stairs to he and Steph's bedroom. Before his wife's sickness, there wouldn't be much there, but in their free time, Steph seemed to enjoy coming to the lake house more. They'd always liked it there and he thought, probably, she just wanted to get away from the house and, honestly, everyone.

Other than him and the girls.

Plus Andre.

"It's just nicer to be here in the spring, you know?" Steph yawned to him once as they sat out on the porch together. "Like, when not so many people are on the lake. It's a lot calmer. You know?"

"Mmmm," Paul hummed, bent over in his chair, staring down at his phone. It was the first week of March and, with Mania in just under a month, there was much to get done. Vince, actually, was pretty pissy at Paul for taking a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday away from Connecticut and Florida, but he really couldn't give less than a shit.

Steph had no treatments that week and wanted to get away for a few days. He wasn't going to tell her no. He'd never tell her no again.

Plus the girls were on their spring break and, after spending the beginning of the week with their mother, were spending the weekend doing their own stuff. Aurora was staying with one of her friends until Sunday, Murphy was with Shane's boys, and Paul's parents had come down to the lake house to pick up Vaughn when Steph and Paul got there and were planning on bringing her back to them before they left.

So they were alone, he and Steph, in the lake house for, oh, one of only, like, twenty times. In a good number of years.

"You can go get on the laptop," Steph offered about then, glancing over at him. His distraction was pretty clear. "Instead of sitting out here on your phone. We're fine on our own."

Right. We. Because her puppy was there with them too, of course, and playing fetch with his mother. A rather unorthodox version of it, as Steph was seated at the table on the porch and would wait for Andre to bring her his favorite rubber ball before tossing over the railing, leaving Andre to have to run up and down the steps each time, but it was worth it. She hadn't felt well enough to play with him in awhile and, while the girls and Paul were all well and good, Andre was definitely Steph's baby.

And there isn't a single baby in the world that wouldn't crave their mother's attention above all others.

Granted, Andre had become a hulk of a baby, but he didn't see himself in this way. He still felt rather tiny actually. Given his growth in less than a year, Paul was sure it would be rather shocking for him, to see just how tiny he once was, but Andre wasn't known for being too bright. He was still struggling with learning to roll over (though, considering Murphy was his typical teacher, Paul frequently cut him some slack). He was mostly just real good at guarding the house.

...When he wasn't snuggled up with his mother and just guarding her and only her instead.

Paul was okay with this, as he frequently felt the need to do the same.

"I don't need the laptop." Glancing over at his wife, he smiled brightly at her. Winter was leaving slowly that year and Steph wasn't taking it well. She was bundled up in one of his big hoodies and had a blanket draped over her shoulders. "I need to be out here with you."

"We'll spend most of the weekend together." Reaching for her mug of coffee, she grinned back at him with a bit of a giggle. Her eyes were brighter than they'd been in awhile and she wasn't nearly as pale. The treatments weren't working, they'd doubted they would to begin with, but Steph looked the best she had since starting them. "You can go do some work if you-"

"Done." He clicked his phone off before pocketing it and sitting up. "I'm here with you. We planned to spend _all_ of the weekend together. I just had to finish up some stupid shit. That's all-"

"I'm not some, like, stupid wife that doesn't understand our business, babe." She took a sip of her coffee before saying, "I know I haven't been much help so far this year, but I still get it. Work first."

"My babies first." He was reaching for his own mug. "Silly."

"I'm your baby?"

"You're my- Andre, knock it off."

The dog was back, with his rubber ball, and wanted someone to throw it. His mother, of course, preferably, but the woman was busy with her coffee and seemed disinterested with the concept then. So he brought it over to his daddy.

Who wasn't appreciative.

At all.

"If we found the girls all places to be," he grumbled to his wife as the dog tried to force his slobber covered toy into the man's hands, "then why couldn't we find this one somewhere?"

"He's a baby, Paul."

"Stephanie."

"I need him." She leaned over to set her coffee mug down before patting a thigh, getting the dog to rush right to her with his toy. And, as she tossed it away, the ball sailing passed the railing, she said, "And he needs me. Besides, he's your first son; you should never want to send him away."

Paul grunted, making a face. "Honestly, Steph, even if we did have a son, I'dda still shipped him off somewhere for this weekend. This is about us. I mean, how many more times are we gonna get this?"

It hung int the air too, Paul recalled, when he said that. The year before, his statement would have meant nothing more than that the two of them were too busy, even, for their daughters at time, much less one another. That March though, in the chill of the slow approaching spring, it meant something completely different.

"Steph," he muttered after a beat passed and she didn't say anything. His wife only shook her head at him though. "I didn't mean-"

"I don't want to talk about...all of this," she said with a bit of a frown. "Or think about it. I want these next few days to just be...normal. Can't we just be normal again? I'm fine, today. And will be tomorrow. And the next day. Alright? So let's not bring it up or whatever. Let's just… I wanna have fun." When her words were met with silence, Steph giggled a bit before adding, "This is, like, the least I've worked since I got out of college. If not before. And being miserable isn't really what I should spend the time period being, is it? Especially on days like today, when I'm not feeling like utter crap."

He let out a long breath, through his nose, before saying, "If we're treating things like normal-"

"Please."

"-then you'd probably be a bit more bitchy over me being on the phone."

Steph rolled her eyes. "Normal in the context of us being on vacation, but only the most important Pay-Per-View being weeks away hanging over our heads."

"But then we'd never be on-"

"Paul."

"I love you." His grin was at its realest as he said this, relaxing once more into his chair. "Steph. And I don't like thinking about that shit anymore than you do. Maybe even less."

"Doubt it."

"So we won't talk about it," he finished. "Any of it. Promise. Okay?"

Which was easier said than done. Being alone together was something the couple craved above all else, but also something that, when they got too much of, could be a bit tiring. Their lives were so intertwined that fresh topics were far and in between typically.

On days when they just laid around and did nothing especially.

Which, of course, is what they did.

It was Friday night and, on the way in, they'd stopped off at the grocery store to get all stocked up, so they were just holed up in the lake house for the next few days. This was perfect for Steph, as though she was feeling just fine, she also was prone to fatigue and didn't find much joy in going out anymore anyways.

"Not when I look like so horrible," was her typical reasoning to her husband, which would get rolls of his eyes at first, then sharp denials of this, and, in the coming months, what would be mostly just soft kisses pressed to her forehead and mumbles of how she was still the hottest woman alive to him.

That night they watched a movie that Paul texted through and then listened to music that Steph slept through.

It was during an interval of her snoozing at the latter event that Paul told her, "When I brought those CDs to listen to in the car, you called me an idiot. Well look now."

"Look at what?" she yawned, head resting against his thigh as she stretched out on their long couch. "We didn't listen to CDs in the car. We listened to music off my phone most of the way."

"Yeah, but we're using them now."

"On a stereo that I could easily hook my phone up to through the auxiliary."

Paul couldn't help it. He snorted, just a bit. "Auxiliary? You're so weird, Steph."

"That's what it's called."

"No one says the full word."

"Well, I do."

"I know." Tapping his thumb on the couch armrest along to the beat Megadeth was providing at the moment, he said, "Besides, you can't tell me that CDs don't sound better than playing music off your damn phone."

"Uh, I can. Because it's literally the same thing."

"It's digital off the phone."

"The CD is just digital music burned to it."

"Nope."

"You sound like Daddy." Steph let out a slow breath. "Paul. He used to, like, go on these rants about cassettes or whatever."

"Quit playing, Steph," he said with a shake of his head. "You know you never owned cassettes."

"What are you talking about?" She seemed offended by that. "Of course I did."

"You definitely missed out on that portion of things."

"Paul, I owned freaking cassette tapes."

"Freakin'?" he mocked. "And besides, you're not old enough to-"

"How old do you think I am?"

Ignoring that, he added, "And you definitely don't remember records."

"Vince had a freaking record player in his damn house until, like 2000. It's probably in some room now, in his stupid mansion."

"Mmmm…don't buy it. CDs were popular by the 90s."

"I wasn't a kid in the 90s."

"Steph."

"I was a teenager, there's a difference."

"Stephanie."

"I was born in the 70s. CDs were popular in the 90s. What exactly do you think happened during that gap?"

"I just can't, like, picture it," he said, grinning then, rather widely. "You walking around, as a kid, with, like, one of those stupid old tape players."

"I had a boy make me a mixtape. Once."

He'd never heard that before and, at the time, only said, "Bullshit."

"It's true. When I was in grade school." Steph yawned again. "And he, like, recorded himself talking over it. Do you remember when people used to do that?"

"I do. You don't."

"Paul."

"I might have graced a few very lucky middle school girls with a compilation of great rock music of my time, sure."

"You did not give them mixtapes with...music you liked...did you?"

"Is that not what I was supposed to do?"

"You are so lucky that you met me later in life," she said. "So lucky."

"I'mma make you a mixtape, baby. To show you what they really are. Because I know you're bullshitting me and have no idea-"

"I born in '76, Paul. I swear I know what stupid cassettes are. I even remember 8 Tracks."

"Now I'm definitely calling bullshit."

"Just because they weren't popular didn't mean that I never saw them. I mean, I did have a brother who is, like, literally, what? A year younger than you?"

"You know, you sure are oddly defensive over this," he remarked about then. "Most wives would love for their husband to, what? Knock a whole damn decade out of their age?"

"I'm defensive," Steph told him, "because I'm right and you're wrong."

"Doth protest too much."

"Fine, then I'm not having this argument anymore." She let out a long breath, he remembered, as well as pushed his hand off her stomach. All playfully, of course. "So-"

"You know what's weird?" he asked then. "Steph?"

"Other than that this is what we're spending our weekend away doing?"

"I, like, can't picture you living before the 90s, listening to cassettes or whatever-"

"Well, I definitely did."

"-but I definitely picture Vince as, like, being alive back before the record player, even," he said. "Like, I see him as this young guy, hanging around, listening to a damn phonograph or whatever."

"Alright, you got me," Steph said with a shake of her head. "Because I have no idea what a...phonograph is."

"It's, like, what was around before the record player. And it would play those little canister things? With the big horn?"

"...Maybe we should stop focusing on how young I am and just how old you are."

"I mean, I wasn't alive when they were popular," he grumbled. "It's just how I picture Vince. Which would make him, like, super old. But what makes it weird is that, in my mind, he also has a child who was, like, five during the 90s, so-"

"That's a very weird statement for you to make, Paul," she retorted. "Considering you were _lusting_ after me in '99. Almost grounds for a restraining order, I think."

"'99?" He scoffed. "Debatable."

"But not $9.99, right?" Steph giggled. "Babe?"

And the hand that she'd pushed away moved then, to flick her in the nose, and they were in such a good place that day, at that time, such a good one, that it almost felt impossible that not six months later, Steph was gone and he was alone.

But that day she was definitely there and definitely still with him. He remembered that moment most, probably, for the next part as his wife shifted then, so that she could sit up on her knees, facing him on their couch.

Her eyes were on him as she said, "I really think you're the last person to be poking other people in the nose, bub."

"Bub?"

Steph literally grabbed his nose between her forefinger and thumb, jerking it a bit. If she wasn't so sick, he might have shoved her away or roughly grabbed her hand. Something. Instead he only breathed heavily through his nose when she let it go, making a face.

But she only grinned back, brightly, her hand falling to rest on the man's chest. Pressing down slightly, she whispered, "So do I have to just come out and ask for it? Or you just going to start trying to get into my pants already?"

And Paul laughed, pretty hard too, Steph trying to bite her lip at the sight and keep from doing the same. There was nothing though that would keep the slight tint she got in her cheeks though. Because she could be as cavalier as she wanted...for a moment or two. Ultimately she was still and always would be a nerd.

"Is that why you took me out here, Steph? Really?" He wagged his eyebrows at her. "To fuck me?"

"Mercilessly, yes."

"Here I was thinking you needed to come out here to clear your head."

"It's a form of it."

"That we couldn't have gotten back at the house?"

"Definitely not."

"That's what I like to hear."

His head was lulled to the side, staring at her, and he knew it'd be over too the soon. He remembered feeling like it was already over. They were only on their first night there and it already felt like they were coming to the end. Steph was in a good mood that day, but he was envisioning her sleeping most of Saturday and then they only had Sunday morning before his parents brought them Vaughn and then they were heading home, to get back to normal.

Err, at least what had become their normal.

"We gotta go upstairs for this?" Paul's smile was softer then, but ever-present. "Steph?"

"Uh, considering the dog is, like, sitting over there watching us-"

"He is a creepy little brat," the man grumbled as Andre, who had been chewing on his toys, had taken to rolling onto his side, over in the corner, so that he could stare at them. "Your son."

"Our son."

And, as she leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, he whispered back against hers in agreement, "Our son."

They left their son though, down there. Paul didn't really remember if they tried to distract him with something first (they typically did when they were busy), but didn't recall having to actually shut the dog out of their room when they went to it.

She must have also put on sheets at sometime when they arrived because he recalled just falling into bed with the woman and pulling her almost immediately down with him.

"You sure you feel okay?" he laughed, just a bit as Steph settled in his lap while he rested flat out on the mattress, blinking up at her. "We don't have to-"

"I'm fine," she said, sounding a bit agitated over him insinuating otherwise. Paul probably would have spoken, had she not moved then to tug the hoodie off. It didn't reveal much, as she had on a sweatshirt beneath, but the man grinned anyways.

Breathing slowly out of his mouth noisily, Paul moved to push up the sweatshirt, just a bit, and rest his hands on her stomach.

"You don't get too warm in all that, babe?" he asked, fingers fanning out across her flesh. "Huh?"

"Not usually," she grinned from over him. "But at this exact moment, I think I am feeling a bit hot, yeah."

"That's too bad. Just let me- Stephanie."

He'd started to move his hands up her sides, but she didn't like this and moved to grasp his hands and shove them back down on the bed. It was easy, after all, when he wasn't playing so rough.

She looked happy, as she stared down into his eyes, but still sick. Paul wondered if he'd ever think that she didn't look sick though and, in August, when he thought about it, he'd realize that he spent those last months with no other version of his wife.

Still, he laid there as she said, "I want you like this. Okay?"

"Like what?" he asked. "Practically nonexistent?"

"Is that what I am when you're the one-"

'Yes."

"Paul."

He was grinning wide again, about ready to mouth off about something, because everything just felt so good that night when, just as he was thinking of a snarky remark, she spoke again.

"I wanna ride you. Like, so hard."

And he couldn't help it. Paul laughed, loudly, at her words. He hadn't grinned that much, that truly, as he had that day in a long time and it was hurting his cheeks just a bit. Steph laughed too, because she always found herself funny, but one of her hands were coming up to rest on one of his cheeks.

"I like you like this," she told him softly as she cupped his cheek. As he blinked, she added, "When you blush."

"I'm not blushing, Steph." It came out as a grumble. "I feel no emotions."

"Other than immense pride in yourself and self-righteousness."

"And a high amount of arrogance."

"I'm serious though," she told him as she leaned over him a bit. "I just… I like that I can still make you that way."

"Always." Reaching up with one of his hands, he grasped the wrist of the one she had resting on his cheek, holding it there. "Steph."

That night only held significance in his mind that day, on Vaughn's birthday, as he led his middle daughter to the closet of he and Steph's bedroom at the lake house after placing the plate of cake on the dresser, for what happened after that though.

"C'mere," he sighed as he took Murphy into the back of the walk-in closet. It was filled with Steph's stuff and Paul wondered then when he was going to be expected to clear it out. "You want something from Mommy?"

Murphy had been a bit nervous, actually, as she'd feared that she might be getting in trouble. Serious trouble. Even though she felt justified in her anger, she also knew that she'd mouthed off to her grandmother, yelled at her sister, and kind of sort of ruined the party.

Under normal circumstances, he'd have marched her upstairs and left her in her room for the day with no toys or nothing.

They were under a special set of rules though, since...since, but even she knew that her father had to have some point where he finally punished her. There was no way that she could just keep acting out and _only_ get talked to...could she?

"Give me a sec." Paul had to reach up, to the top shelf that lined the back wall of the closet, Murphy tilting her head back to stare up there, watching him pull down first a few different things. Shoe boxes. When he found them to actually hold shoes, he'd set them to the side. When he eventually got to the one that he wanted, Murphy watched her father take a breath before turning to face her.

"Here. This..." The lid was off the box as he turned to face her, holding it out to her. "This is what you were gonna get. If Mommy didn't… If she couldn't make it to your birthday."

And it was way back in March that it had been decided. That night, after they were both done giggling and Andre was in bed with them, but was down at the foot of the bed, Steph told him what she wanted to do.

He was actually on his phone, checking his email, when she said, "You know how we were talking about cassettes or whatever?"

"Or whatever," he mumbled, hardly listening.

"And how I told you that boy, like, made me that mixtape with his voice over it?"

"This is some weird after sex talk, Steph, but sure."

"Shut up. Listen."

Glancing over at her then, he said, "All ears."

"And I still remember that, you know? And I'd probably still have it, if it actually meant anything to me."

"Uh-huh."

"And I just… What if I don't, like, make it to July?"

He frowned then. "You lost me. And you're being stupid. So-"

"Paul-"

"You said you didn't want to talk about-"

"What if I'm not here for their birthdays, Paul?"

"Stephanie-

"I mean, I know, eventually, I won't be, but knowing that I might not this year-"

"Why are we talking about this? When you're not even feeling that bad? Today?"

"Because now would be the time to talk about it."

"It's March!"

"And if something happened, like, in April-"

"I could die. At any time," he told her. "We all could. They...could...but thinking about that makes me feel weird so-"

"It's different, Paul." She was lying on her side beside him, head rested more on his pillow than her own (mainly because he knew she had been spying on what he was doing on his phone), but that was okay because he liked her close. "With this."

"How?"

"Because I know that I'm-"

"You don't know anything."

"Excuse you?"

Huffing, he tossed his phone down into his lap before giving her his full attention. "We don't know what's going to happen, Steph. With any of this. At all. And-"

"And if I am there, for their birthday, then what difference does it make?" she asked. "If I do it?"

"Do what?" She hadn't stated that yet. Frowning at her, he asked, "You wanna make them a...mixtape?"

"Shut up, Paul."

"I'm asking!"

"You're being a jerk."

"Then what is it that you wanna-"

"I just," she said and her voice cracked a bit, making him feel like an ass for giving her such a hard time (especially when he knew that he'd cave to any and everything that she wanted anyways), "want to be able to tell them happy birthday. Okay?"

He nodded, because he felt so bad, before asking, "But how?"

"I wanna record a video or whatever. And tell them. Whatever I want to tell them."

And what was he supposed to say to that? Other than he'd buy her some blank DVDs or whatever, if she wanted, and leave it at that?

The problem though, was that Steph wasn't doing bad in March. So, when she recorded whatever she did on that first DVD (Paul never watched any of them), they both agreed that it would freak the kids out, if they stumbled upon it and watched it, listening to their mother talk about herself as if she had passed on.

It'd actually be pretty scarring, Paul figured.

So they hid it. And, since March was so far away, Steph inevitably made another. And then another. And she put them away, each time, eventually shifting the box that they wound up keeping them in to the lake house, far away from the kids. And Paul was supposed to give them to Murphy and Aurora, if she didn't…if something happened. Before their birthday. Or just whenever.

But then she made it to July and to their party.

Just not Vaughn's.

But when she got sick, at the end of July, very sick, the last thing on either of their minds were those stupid DVDs. There was so much else going on, after all. And when he did remember them, when it was all over, he decided that while he'd always honor his wife's wishes, she _technically_ said originally that they were for if she didn't make it to their birthday parties. And she had. Even though Paul knew, with so many of those DVDs, that there had to be other things burned on them than just well wishes for a happy birthday, Steph had never mentioned outside of Aurora and Murphy's birthdays as needing to get them to the girls.

So he thought he wouldn't. For awhile. A long while. Because…

It was creepy.

To him.

He knew that Steph's sentiment was well, but at the same time, it was going to kind of be like a loss all over again, he felt. Because eventually they'd reach the end of those DVDs. And they'd lose Steph all over again and only be left with remnants.

And he never was going to give them to Vaughn. He knew his girls, in theory, weren't that far in age, but they still were in his mind. And she was a baby. And he felt like that would just screw her up or something. Be just as creepy to her as it was to him. He figured Steph felt the same, as she never rightfully said she recorded Vaughn a birthday message thing, and thought too that Vaughn was just too young.

So they picked out the bike.

It was supposed to be a really nice moment. He felt like it was nice. Before Murphy…

But he was standing there then, with the box outstretched to his daughter, and slowly, she came to peek in.

"What are they?"

"They're little...videos. Of Mommy." He watched as she slowly pulled a random DVD out, staring at her mother's obvious writing on it. Just a date and then her older sister's name. When she pulled out another, it had her name and another date. "For you. And Rora. She...didn't know if she'd be here in July, so she made these. And...I don't know about you, but I think that's better than bike. Don't you?"

She was frowning though, staring down at the one in her hand before glancing back up at him. "Mommy's...on them?"

"Yeah. She is." Swallowing, he added quickly then, "But you can't tell Vaughn, Murph. Or Aurora, right now. I'll talk to Aurora, but Vaughn can't...see these. I don't want her to. Alright? I-"

"I can put it in your laptop and watch it?" She wasn't listening to him then, just staring up at him with wide eyes. "Daddy? All of them?"

"Well...yeah, I guess. If you want."

"Right now?"

"Murphy-

"I can I watch them right now?"

What was he supposed to say?

Instead of saying anything, he only nodded. Murphy took off too, at his nod, with the random DVD in her hand, and back into the adjoining bedroom where she knew his laptop had to be lying around somewhere.

Paul knew that he should be watching it with her. Probably. To answer any questions or...whatever, but he couldn't. Instead he only followed her into the bedroom and set up his laptop for her. The kids watched DVDs on it all the time, so she had no need for him after he'd logged on, which was Paul's excuse for leaving the room. Just ruffled her hair and told her he was going to go talk to Aurora and to get him if she needed anything.

But he didn't go outside to get his oldest. Not immediately. For one thing, he didn't want them fighting over the DVDs and figured he'd give Murphy a bit with them. For another though, he just...couldn't. Go back out there. In that moment.

Andre hadn't come into the bedroom with them. Paul had shut him out. So when the man walked out, he started to run passed Paul, to go jump up on the man's bed with Murphy, but for some reason he followed his master instead. All the way back downstairs and to the living room, where they both sat on the couch.

He knew that Paul liked him, Andre did, but he also knew he wasn't one of the girls. Or Steph. He didn't like to get licks or kisses and he certainly didn't like to snuggle. Still though, when the dog laid his big head on the man's equally as big thigh, he didn't shove him off.

Just sat there and waited. For someone to come in or for Murphy to come down. Whichever came first. It honestly, at that point, didn't matter to him.

At all.

* * *

 **So we're all in agreement that when I said five chapters, I meant ten, right?**


	5. Chapter 5

Paul didn't know how long he sat there, on the couch, with Andre beside him, but he tried to pay enough attention that if he heard his daughter upstairs, upset about the videos, he would be able to go tend to her.

He wasn't really sure what to say to her, about anything dealing with those, but still would at least try. He could try for them.

It was while he was zoned out that someone came in through the backdoor, him hearing it sliding shut being enough tune back in.

"I just, uh, came to make sure that everything was alright. Got elected to, for some reason."

He only shrugged a bit at his brother-in-law as he walked into the living room. "We're fine."

"Where's-"

"Upstairs." He cleared his throat then, Paul did, as Shane looked around, as if searching for his niece. "She's...watching those stupid tapes Steph made."

Shane paused at that, as he had been walking around a bit, in front of the couch. Then, slowly, he said, "I didn't know you were still gonna-"

"They're...creepy, but Steph wanted me to."

That didn't feel right, coming out of his mouth. Paul felt...odd, telling Steph's brother something like that. He knew in theory that he should be in deeper grief than Shane, but for some reason, it just…

Like, Steph was Paul's. And he definitely felt that more, the sicker she got. She was his wife. His best friend. He was the one that saw her nearly every day and, if not at least that, then would certainly speak with her. He wasn't just some guy she'd married years ago and had slowly drifted from.

They were still close. Very close. Further in some ways, fine, but in the most important? Closer, honestly.

So why he even cared if calling Steph's videos creepy offended Shane or not was bizarre, honestly, but he still felt it.

Until Shane rubbed at the back of his neck and went, "Yeah, I accidentally saw her, once, making one, when I was over at your house with her. It was...definitely different, but..." He let out a short breath. "Creepy. You were right. And...I mean, I don't wanna have to watch one, personally."

Paul and his brother-in-law rarely agreed on anything, not even non-work things, so to find common ground in such a weird place usually would make the men laugh or grin at one another, but Paul didn't know when he'd do that again and Shane felt more awkward than anything else.

"Steph would be happy though," Shane offered slowly then. "That you...showed them to her. She really, you know, thought that those would...help the girls. And...they helped her too, I think, to make them. I- Careful, buddy."

He was speaking to Andre, who'd jumped off the couch and gone running over to the man for attention. Andre had actually gotten a lot of that recently.

Just not the kind he was used to.

With all the girls so sad, the dog was very in demand. They liked to lay on the floor with him and rub his belly or let him nuzzle up against them. He wasn't as into it though, because it was more of a calm attention than a run around the yard playing Frisbee attention.

And he was kinda down too, honestly. He wasn't totally sure where Steph was, Paul was certain, but the dog did seem to key in on something being wrong with her, in those final months. He liked to lay around in bed with her and be on his best behavior, when she was home. And Paul wasn't there a lot, back at the house, after Steph got admitted that final time, never to return again, but his mother was staying with the girls there and told him that the dog mostly laid by the front door and whined.

He wondered some times, Paul did, if eventually he'd come to the conclusion that Steph had abandoned him. It didn't really matter, of course, because regardless of what Steph always said, he ultimately was just a dog. An animal. He'd get over it. Maybe if Steph was his only caregiver, he wouldn't, as he'd heard of animals grieving long periods in situations like that, but Andre had many. Not even just he and the girls. There were the other people, frequently in and out of the house, that the Mastiff was more than associated with.

He'd forget to miss her eventually. He was just a puppy. But...it was kinda sad, really, Paul thought, for him to not at least know that she didn't just leave him. That she didn't want him to have to forget about her. He was such a stupid dog, not nearly as smart as Bluto had been, but he was still their dog. Their baby.

He was probably the only thing that kept Steph sane when spring rolled around.

Well, one of the things.

"You can't," Paul recalled sighing quite deeply as his wife only glared at him, standing there in the hoodie that was not only his, but also too baggy to really be providing her any warmth, "go to Florida, Steph."

They were at home, where his wife had been for most of the day. She'd taken and picked up the girls from school that day and, though she didn't seem to feel so great, she wasn't doing nearly as horrible as other days.

At the least, she was well enough to argue with her husband.

"I can so."

"Stephanie-"

"I have never," she insisted to him, as they both attempted to keep their voice down, her to not alert their girls to their argument and him because, fuck, his wife was dying, he wished he'd never raised his voice at any point in their life, much less do it again, "missed a Wrestlemania, Paul. I went all three times I was pregnant, was backstage when I had the flu-"

"I don't care. You're not going."

"I can go where I want to."

"You don't need to go."

"Well, I am, so-"

"Damn it, Steph, just-"

"I'm going, get over it."

The whole argument sprung up when, upon arriving home, Paul found his wife on the living room couch, talking on her phone to someone (he couldn't be for certain, but it sounded like someone from work) about something dealing with Mania and he announced his presence to her, thinking that she'd just hand the phone over to him.

Considering Steph hadn't had anything to do with the business, truly, in months, it was asinine that someone bothered her with it to begin with.

Until she ignored him and, annoyed, Paul waited for her to finish up before questioning who had called her and muttered something about how stupid that person could be, to bother her. Which was Steph informed him of something.

"I was the one who called," she said as stared up at him, as she only would get to her feet about a minute later when it was obvious they had a fight on their hands. "I wanted to make sure it was clear that I was going to be there. Apparently, you and Daddy have been telling people otherwise."

To which he responded, yeah, they had, because of course she wasn't. And...things sort of dissolved from there.

It just...got under his skin, honestly, that Steph thought otherwise. That she had any business even worrying about Wrestlemania, much less attending it. A damn wrestling show was not worth her traveling all the way down to Florida. Dealing with the stress of it. He didn't even care to go, honestly. He'd supposed to have been laying ground work since December, for his beef with Rollins, but it was just a buried plot hole at that point, as Paul hadn't cared to be on screen or what it would do to ratings without him there.

Because fuck, Vince, he recalled yelling a lot, since the topic was more than a point of contention that year, Steph was sick.

Steph was dying.

And before summer was over, she'd be dead.

He'd given up everything for that business. But he wasn't giving up his last times with his wife. Lines and moves and plots all memorized for a bunch of idiotic morons that would consume whatever media you put in front of them, just so they could bitch about it later, over shit that didn't even matter or getting to spend more time with his dying wife.

It wasn't even a fucking contest, really, to anyone other than Vince. Or at least it shouldn't have been. And after getting his ass chewed out by his father-in-law over it, here his wife was, basically shoving it in his face that she was no different than that man.

Sometimes he got it, honestly, Paul did. And as he sat there on the couch, in present day, watching Shane awkwardly rub at the ears of his sister's dog, he knew that his withdraw from the company had put the other man in a gauche position as well.

It wasn't completely...wrong to say that there was a bit of a power struggle. Between all the McMahons, fine, but mostly, truthfully, in the beginning it had less to do with Paul and Steph and more to do with Vince and Shane. Vince never seemed to show any inclination towards trusting his only son as a successor and every time Shane attempted to prove himself as competent, it was shut down by his dad. Paul had nothing to do with it. It predated, even, his involvement with Steph. And even when he was entwined her, it seemed pretty set in stone that she'd never outrank her brother.

In anything.

She was younger and a woman.

Shane was certainly holding more control in the company than she. There was no way around it.

Until he wasn't. And couldn't take his father's overbearing nature anymore. It was only when he started to make it clear, Shane did, that he was starting to feel as if he needed out that Paul assumed any real role. And by then, Shane had decided to bow out of the company.

And when Shane decided to come back…

Fine, whatever, it wasn't the easiest time to assimilate him back into the whole drama. They were still handling it all too, figuring Shane's place in everything (which, in those moments, was still purely on television and nothing to do with the inner workings) when Steph got sick.

It threw a wrench in everything. If Steph was taken from the mix, it legitimately would have been Vince deciding between bringing his one, true, firstborn son back into his proper place, to accept his inheritance, or his chosen son, who he'd sculpted to fit his special mold of just what he thought a promoter should be.

A plot fit for their stupid, fictionalized world. Paul and Shane could probably fight for it. And would, actually, fictionalized or not, if Vince got his way.

But he rarely got his way.

Rather, the contention between Shane and Paul mostly didn't exist anymore. Not on Paul's end, anyways.

When Steph got sick, Vince was already bowing out of the business slowly, leaving much of the work on her and her husband's shoulders, him only having to deal with the final says on things. It was her turn though, to leave things to the others and Paul, of course, wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.

The warring sides weren't easy to figure out. Paul couldn't take time off. Not serious time, at least. NXT was his. He had been with Vince backstage at the main shows for quite some time. For him and Steph to just disappear wasn't an option.

Someone had to step in.

And for NXT, it was easy to get one of the guys that Paul worked with to do so, those months following Mania, when Steph got her worst and he missed a lot. But for the other two shows, well, that was kind of all Vince's call. And he didn't really talk to Shane, immediately, about helping out again, but when he did…

Paul wasn't mad, at his brother-in-law, for seizing his opportunity. The words would taste wrong if he spoke them, but in his head, Paul could admit, he honestly didn't care. Not in the moment. Or moments, rather. The last ones that he had with Steph. He was...numbed, starting in the spring. To the bone. And the summer had only been harsher. Shane could do whatever the fuck he wanted. They all could.

Stephanie didn't think so. At all. Paul could tell. It bothered her, for some reason, when he'd say anything about Shane and work. Together, that is. They could talk about Shane. She did frequently, actually. She and her brother had always been close (in her mind, anyhow) outside of the business and, of course, with her sickness, the man began to hang around more. He called her too, frequently, and Paul had found them in some pretty intense text battles as well.

The two of them? Shane and Steph? They weren't talking about work. Nope. She didn't care what he did, at all. They spoke about anything but. The kids, their parents, their spouses, the weather, television, Steph's sickness. Literally anything other than work.

It was just him, Paul, that Steph was constantly concerned with working. He knew that it wasn't that she didn't want him around, because there was nothing she enjoyed more than when he was, but at the same time, it irked her a bit, when he missed what she'd deemed as too much of it.

He mistook this, originally, as jealousy of her brother. That she didn't want Shane making any sort of move to better himself in the company and, without her being there to put a stop to it, needing Paul to do so. That the company belonged to the two them, then, and Shane was just the odd man out. He'd been outplayed by his sister for years and, now that she was sick, she needed Paul to make sure he stayed the hell out.

But that wasn't right.

At least not fully.

Because Paul knew the McMahons were a strange breed and, even with normal people, money was a great divider. Inheritance was no joke. Especially considering both of the McMahon children had kids of their own that they'd each, of course, want to slide the company too eventually.

Shane and Steph sharing the company was something that could never happen and, though the two maintained a good relationship despite it, each were equally just in their desire for it. Shane was the oldest and it had been his by unspoken promise, but the second he walked away from it, Steph was equally warranted in her claims.

It was a bit disheartening, really, to know that as she was dying, Steph was concerned with that, but Paul didn't necessarily find her wrong for being so.

Until, you know, he realized he was wrong.

While they were arguing, that day, over whether or not Steph was going to Mania, it just hit him.

Steph wasn't jealous of Shane or fearful of his reclaiming of a position. It was actually much simpler than that.

She was...living through Paul. In every sense of the word. He was still getting to do the things that she loved, up at WWE, while she was being forced to come to terms with the fact that not only was her roles there being stripped forcibly from her, but her life as well.

Steph had lost her dream and slowly living all together, all in one fell swoop.

But…

That still didn't mean that Paul needed to allow her to go down to Florida for Mania weekend.

"No," he replied that day, after she'd told him to just get over the fact she was coming, "you're not. You're not...well enough. You don't need to travel to Florida."

"Paul-"

"I bet the girls will even skip it, if you ask," he said then with a nod. "That they'll stay and watch Wrestlemania back here with you."

"I don't _want_ them to do that, Paul."

"They'd want to. If you ask. Or at least Vaughn would, probably, and the other two if you really ask-"

"They need to go. They always go. And I have since the beginning. So I'm going-"

"Stephanie-"

"Why is it such an issue for you?"

And he didn't mean to. Honest. What he said next was just a reflex. He was stressed, by home and work now, and her griping about something that seemed so obvious to him was really grating on the man.

Especially after he'd just come home.

"Because I don't have time to take care of you, alright? Down there? I'm busy with other stuff. You just need to stay here. I won't be able to look after you."

Which was the wrong thing to say, apparently, if the look on Steph's face said anything. She'd had her arms crossed over her chest previously, but now, slowly, they fell to her sides as she only stared at him, as if in shock over the fact he'd say such a thing.

Setting her jaw just as quickly, she said, "I'm sorry I'd be such a burden."

A breath left his mouth then, rather raggedly, as he only rubbed at his forehead, as if tired. "That's not what I said, Steph."

"It is too."

"Well, you're not, so-"

"I'll just go down there," she spoke right over him, "without having anything to do with you. I'll fly out on my own, stay the hell away from you when I'm down there, and we can just not see one anther at all."

"Stop it."

"No. Because I'm going. And if it has to be-"

"Go then, Steph! I don't care! Just…" He didn't know what to do, honestly. The last thing he wanted was for her to go, but arguing with her was not something he enjoyed doing. He wanted it over as soon as possible. And if he didn't let her go, they'd be fighting over her doing so until it happened. "Why do you need to?"

She'd won, then, and relaxed visibly before, with a shrug, she went to sit on the couch again. Paul glanced around, as he could hear his youngest not far off, singing loudly to a radio in one of the other rooms. Slowly, he moved to sit beside his wife.

"I don't want something to happen down there, Steph," he told her softly as he reached over, forcing her to glance at him by ghosting a finger under her chin, a signal they'd long established as he wanted some eye contact. "I just...feel safer with you here. At home."

"I wanna go though. I've always gone and-"

"But what difference does it make? To anyone? If you're there or not? Who's going to judge you by not?"

"It makes a difference to me."

"Steph..."

"I don't get to go shows anymore, Paul," she said, blue eyes glassy and tired. "I've never been away for that long. You don't know what it's like. I love my work. And now I don't get to do it. I… I just wanna go. I didn't even get to go to the Rumble this year. What if… What if this is the last Mania I get a chance to be at? The last PPV? This has been my whole life and now… I just wanna go."

Paul only bowed his head, so that it rested against her, as they sat there, on the couch in the living room, facing one another. In another minute, Andre would realize his father was home and rush to great him. In another ten, two of the girls. And in another fifteen, all three would be wanting attention.

But before any of that, it was just he and Steph, alone.

"You can go," he sighed as he felt one of her hands move to run up his arm, squeezing at the bicep. "Of course you can go."

Not the Hall of Fame ceremony, but Steph never rightly asked to go to that anyhow. It was more or less unspoken between them that it and Axxess would just start existing without her early. And on the latter, he supposed he should feel a bit glad, as she'd have no doubt made him livestream that year once more, them looking around the venue, but for some reason, he couldn't find himself hating the idea as much as he remembered hating it in Dallas.

He didn't hate any of the stupid shit she brought to his life anymore.

She wanted to go to the TakeOver though and he couldn't deny her it. She brought Shane's boys and their girls, with Marissa and Linda tagging along too. Paul was busy, of course, backstage actually working, but he thought about her the whole time. But she seemed fine, through the show, and he kind of hoped that she'd be so tired from attending it that Mania the next day wouldn't be something she wanted. That just being close would be enough.

It wasn't, of course, but what was he expecting? Honestly? He'd known the second Steph cleared it with her doctor that she was going to attend and there was nothing he could do about it.

Again, he had other things to attend to, but Steph was actually backstage rather than in the crowd for it. She didn't really do anything, but with it being an outdoor venue, he was actually more thankful for her to be closer to him than out there in the crowd.

Paul felt weird, not having an event at Mania. Very weird. Shane did though and he wondered if his brother-in-law had felt the same, all the years he had nothing to do while he watched his sister's husband continue to land important matches there.

"Two years back-to-back in important events," he heard Shane snicker to Steph, weeks before, as she poke to him on speaker phone. "This is finally it, Steph; after many decades, I've finally made it."

"Hardly," she'd giggled right back. "But as long as you think so."

Wrestlemania drained Stephanie though. Her husband could tell. But Vince wasn't Paul and the way that he kept patting her on the shoulder, calling her so strong for being there, her husband knew that telling her to bow out early wouldn't do much.

When they finally got back to the hotel room though, she crashed until noon the next day. The girls were already gone by then, on a plane back to Connecticut so they could be there for school on Tuesday (Mania weekend was a McMahon holiday, school be damned, but the second it ended, there were no excuses), but Paul still had to stick around for RAW and Smackdown anyways. With her there, it made the decision much easier.

"You gonna get up again?" he whispered as he stroked her hair tenderly, trying to awaken her as gently as possible, just past twelve that Monday. "Steph?"

She blinked her eyes open, staring across the hotel room bed at him while Paul only grinned.

"Hey," she breathed as he continued to his soft pets.

And, leaning over to brush a kiss against her forehead, he mumbled back against her flesh, "Hey."

"Think I'mma skip RAW."

"That's okay, baby."

As if he were letting her go to that too anyways. Looking back, it was kinda nice, really, to think about.

The last events Steph saw were her husband's show, in all it's glory, and then her father's child, succeeding just as strong as it ever had.

Bittersweet to think about, currently, but he was sure he'd look back on it in a few years and laugh because there was no way to plan it better than that.

"The girls-"

"They're back home. Or headed that way, anyhow."

"Mmmm."

"You can call them later today, if you wanna."

She did. And would.

His hand had stilled then, but moved down first, to her cheek, which he cupped gently as he watched her eyes shut again.

"I'mma get you something to eat."

"Not hungry."

She got another kiss. "Don't care."

"Mmmm." As Steph pushed up a bit and her husband's hand fell away, she only stared down at them then, smiling sleepily. "I did it."

"Yep." He even nodded, Paul was pretty sure, though Steph only fell back into bed once more, now on her other side, facing away from him. And, wrapping a tight arm around her, he figured he could kill some more time, holding her like that, as he said, "You did."

He was still thinking about the day, mostly it's night, when after RAW he came back to find Steph feeling like shit and feeling completely responsible for even letting her go down there in the first place, when he was forced to forget April and get drug back into August, as his brother-in-law was speaking to him then.

"You don't gotta sit in here all day, you know," Shane said with a nod, after he finally got Andre to leave him alone, the dog rushing then, out of the room and up the stairs, no doubt to go check on Murphy. "It's your daughter's birthday. You can go back down there. She probably wants you to, anyhow."

Paul was lost, in many ways, of course, but mostly with what Shane said for a moment, as his head had been elsewhere. But after a moment or two, he was able to shake his head and say, "Murphy's upstairs. I have to...be here, you know? In case she needs me. From watching those..."

"Well...I'll be here." Shane grinned then and it was true, in that he was trying, but not so much that he was feeling any joy then. Paul still only stared as the man added, "You can go be with Vaughn and, if Murphy needs someone, I can take care of it. Then, if she really needs you, we'll go get you. It'll be fine. I'll go check on her right now, even."

Maybe Paul should have stayed in there, ready to deal with any tears or fears that might come up for his middle child, but at the same time, his other daughter needed him too. Vaughn. She was equally as upset.

Life was...hard to navigate, to say the least.

If Steph was there, he'd stay with Murphy and she'd deal with Vaughn and things would be great.

But, then, if Steph was there, the problem would have even existed.

Things were looking up, down at the party. The boys had taken to looking at all of Vaughn's presents while the girl herself was sitting in the lap Paul's father, still looking rather weepy.

She didn't look better when she saw him, but she did let him pick her up. He carried her a bit awkwardly, as she was, of course, far too big to be carried to begin with, but it wasn't far anyhow. Just took over over to where her new, shiny bike was resting on it's kickstand and, ignoring the others, set her down before it.

"Daddy-"

Bending down on her level, he spoke only to Vaughn as he said softly, "Look at this pretty bike right here. This big girl bike. Is this not what you asked Daddy to get you?"

"Yes! But Murphy-"

"She's fine. Don't worry about her. Worry about you. It's your birthday, is it not?"

When she nodded, he smoothed down her blonde hair with a hand before saying, "Then enjoy it. Daddy's enjoying it. I wanna see you on your bike. Can you at least do that for me?"

She could. She didn't have to enjoy it though.

...But she did, eventually, as when it was clear the bike wasn't going to do it for her, Paul took her over to the boys to look at her other gifts. They'd gotten all her dolls and stuff free of their boxes and were all kinda on edge over the whole meltdown, so they were being extremely nice. And Paul's niece Neysa came over to play with her too and it was just great.

Not that he hadn't noticed the absence of Aurora though.

Because he had.

He just also noted the one of Vince as well and knew she was with him.

When he questioned Linda ask to where they'd gone off to, she pointed him down towards where their dock was, further down the lake. And, after being sure Vaughn was alright, he went out to check on them. The path to it had another line of trees and he was hardly through it when he spotted them.

They were on the end of the dock, dangling their feet above the cool water, and Paul could hear them talking before he approached and long before they noticed his presence.

"-like school, Pop."

"I know you do. It'll be good for you to get away from the house anyways." Then Vince laughed, that weird one that made Paul's skin crawl a bit, because it sounded so off, but Aurora, who'd heard it since birth, wasn't nearly as bothered by the sound. "Me? School wasn't very good for me. Couldn't pay attention. Wasn't good at it. Not like you kids. I talked too much, they used to say. Can you believe that?"

It was clear he was trying to get her to laugh, but it didn't work, and Paul could tell that Aurora's head was down, watching the murky water as she thought.

"I don't like being home," Paul heard Aurora say as he got closer to them. It made him freeze while still observing.

"How come?" Vince asked her. "Is something going on?"

"I just don't." Then, before Vince could say anything, her head lifted and she asked, "Can't I come stay with you?'

Paul wanted to rush over there then, right that second, to get to the bottom of just what she was talking about, but he felt frozen and Vince was speaking after a moment anyhow.

"You can come stay with me any day that you want, Aurora. You know that. You-"

"No," she complained, glaring up at him then. "I wanna live with you. And Grandma. I don't wanna have to go back home."

"A-Aurora-"

"I won't be bad," she insisted. "And I won't ask you for anything. At all. And Daddy can still pick me up for school in the morning. You're just down the street. Please? Pop? I don't wanna go back home."

Paul didn't know what to do. His mouth was dry.

What was...what was wrong with home? Why did she wanna leave? What had he done?

He wasn't needed to question this though, as Vince was, quickly, his voice getting a bit gruff.

"Why?" the man asked. "Aurora? What's wrong? If something's happening-"

"No," she groaned as Paul's sure Vince's mind went to somewhere that _definitely_ wasn't happening. "I just… I did something really bad. And I'm gonna get in trouble. Daddy's gonna yell at me."

"About what? What did you do?"

"It's really bad."

"You can tell me anything. Is someone hurting you?"

"No, Pop." She was whining then. "It's something I did. And it was really bad and… You can't tell."

"What?"

And then, unfortunately, Aurora leaned up to whisper whatever horrible deed it was to Vince before slowly looking back down at her lap. Vince was silent for a moment or two before speaking.

"Why did you do that, Aurora?"

"Because I wanted to be closer to Mommy."

"You need to tell-"

"No! I can't. I don't wanna get in trouble."

"He won't get you in trouble, Aurora. But you can't…"

"Don't tell. Please, Pop."

"I'm not going to. Because you need to."

"Pop-"

"It's alright." And one of his arms fell over the girl, pulling her closer to him. "You'll be okay. You just… Paul loves you girls a lot. And I know that things are really...different, right now, at home, without your mother there, but you'll be fine. Just… Go back home from here, huh? And start school on Monday. If you're still not okay, after that, then I'll talk to your dad and we can see if you can get away for a bit, huh?"

She was sniffling then, but Vince only hugged her and Paul knew he had to do something then, before they caught him back there, still in the trees, so he took a few soft steps back before calling out, going forwards once more, pretending as if he were looking for them.

"Here you are," 'he asked, trying hard to keep an edge out of his voice, mind racing as he tried to think of just what his oldest could have done, "Aurora."

She and Vince seemed shocked to see him, but she only shoved away from her grandfather, rubbing at her eyes, which were wet, as she never liked crying around her father. But he only came to the start of the dock and stared down at them.

"Help me up then," Vince said to his granddaughter when she got to her feet. "'fraid I'll fall in the water on my own."

Paul came down to help him up too and then, Vince grinned down at Aurora, clapped Paul on the shoulder, and then headed back towards the party, calling over his shoulder to them that he wanted another burger, if they weren't all gone.

He only continued to stare down at his daughter though, the former wrestler did, watching her face as he asked, "Are you alright? Rora? Did you...and Pop have a talk?" Then he bit his tongue, as that was too leading, and if she knew that he knew any bit of the conversation he'd overheard, she'd shut down. Paul coughed a bit, in one hand, as the other rested on her head, before saying, "That's what Linda told me, anyhow. You and him were coming to talk."

"He wanted to make sure Murphy was okay and ask me all about it."

Which didn't make sense. Aurora was hardly with Paul and Murphy long enough, up there, to know what had gone on. Not to mention, Linda had stayed up there even longer than she anyhow.

But it sounded like something Vince would say to his oldest granddaughter, who they all knew was far too serious to let on that she was bothered by something, but could be led there by questioning her about what her sister's were feeling.

Vince was an asshole, to his kids, his wife, and really creepy, sometimes, to women, but…

He did love his grandchildren.

That was what he was good at. Promoting and looking at for his grandkids.

Those were the only two things he really seemed to care about, anyhow.

"She's alright," Paul said, slowly, nodding his head, not feeling up for tackling the videos with her just yet. Leading her then, back up the dock and to the party, he said, "And so is Vaughn… And so are you. Right? Aurora?"

And he held his breath, a bit, watching as she was silent for nearly a minute of their walk, hoping that she'd revveal just what it was she'd said to Vince to him.

Because…

Steph was Aurora's favorite. Paul knew that. He was Murphy's. It was a trade-off.

But the idea that Aurora could trust...Vince more than him was…

He need to know what happened.

And soon.

But not then as Aurora only nodded before saying, "Yes. I am."

It took a lot out of him not to just sigh, loudly. Even more not to flat out force him to tell her what was going on. But he knew that if it was something...horrible, Vince would have told him the second he made his presence known.

He was just going to have to get Aurora to open up to him about it.

"That's good." His mouth was dry as he tried to swallow, but Paul only patted her gently on the head. "That's real good."


	6. Chapter 6

The other children had devolved away from Vaughn's gifts and more into a game o hide-and-seek when they got back to the party, which Paul could tell Aurora really didn't wanna be a part of and, with a sigh, he took her with him back to the house.

She didn't ask any questions as he led her this way, a hand resting on her back, guiding her along. Paul wasn't really sure what he was going to say to her. He'd stumbled through his explanation to Murphy and, really, only the girl's immediate excitement over getting the special tapes got him of the hook of truly talking to her on the subject.

Aurora, however, was a different type entirely. She wouldn't get caught up in the joy over having something new from her mother. Rather, she would need him to detail just when Steph made the tapes and why she made them and how come he was just now telling her about them and it would go on and on and on and…

So he just took her up to the lake house, walking passed Shane, who was in the living room, playing with Andre, and up to Steph and Paul's bedroom. Aurora was staring quizzically up at him then, but he only opened the door and walked in.

Murphy was there, snuggled up in bed, but the laptop screen was blank and she was no longer awake. She'd fallen asleep, it seemed, during one of the videos. Paul liked immediately the thought of Steph's voice having helped her drift off, but he figured this laid more in all the stress she'd been going under and just conking out.

"Shhh," he whispered to Aurora, putting a finger to his mouth as he walked into the room. "C'mere."

Curious now, she followed him in while Paul went to tenderly as he could lift the laptop away from the bed and shut it softly. Then, holding it out to Aurora, he waited for her to take it before gathering up all the CDs strewn around the bed, as well as snatch up the shoe box full of the others. Then he left the room, leaving Murphy still napping behind, Aurora quick behind him.

He led her to the closest other bedroom, which happened to be the one his parents were staying in, and, figuring they wouldn't mind, motioned for her to take a seat on it.

"What are those?" Aurora asked, setting the laptop down on the bed while she sat on the edge, staring up at him. "Are they-"

"Mommy made them." Paul had to clear his throat after he said that and looked off before adding, "For you and Murphy. They're videos of… Just of her talking and stuff. For… You should just watch them, Rora. The ones for you. Not for Murph."

Setting the box in her lap, he saw the girl start to open her mouth, no doubt to ask something, something about the videos that he never wanted to have to deal with and still didn't, really. But they'd been a quick fix for Murphy and now he was stuck with them. There was no way that he couldn't give Aurora hers. He just...he wished he had answers. But he didn't. To any of it.

"Just watch 'em," he instructed before she could speak. "Okay? Rora? And...I'll be in my room for a bit. I have a headache. Come get me if you need me."

Which wasn't what he was supposed to do. He knew this. Of course he knew this. He should have stayed and explained and fielded questions, listened to what she was going through and prod deeper into what she was keeping to herself.

He should have gotten to the bottom of just what she'd told Vince out there on the dock.

But he did none of that.

Paul had always prided himself on his kids and his love for them. He still did. The three of them were all he'd ever wanted in life. They gave him a purpose he never realized he was missing.

In the moment though, he just need to escape.

Which, of course, his room wasn't the best place, considering one of them were in there at the moment. Murphy. But she was still snuggled up in her mother's spot snoozing away whatever feelings the videos had stirred up, leaving him to not have to deal with anything on that front.

Climbing into his own spot, Paul was cautious not to wake her after kicking off his shoes and resting against the coolness of his pillow. He laid though, facing her, watching her, listening to her as she breathed softly in and out. In and out. In and out.

Then he was out. Just like that. He didn't know it, of course, until sometime later when the distant sounds of other people talking wafted their way up to the bedroom and he found himself there, still, in bed, with the sleeping Murphy.

He blinked a few times, as if dazed and not understand just where he was or what he was doing. Without much thought, his subconsciously reached a hand over to ghost his fingers over her hair, not wishing to wake her, but just to feel, to be sure she was there.

Napping. At the lake house. That's what he was doing. And so was she.

He was still lazily running a hand over Murphy's soft blonde hair when his eyes fell to it, the glint of the sun outside causing it to shine a bit as the light hit it just right.

His wedding band.

Moving his hand away from his daughter then, Paul rubbed the thumb of his ring hand against the band, staring at it with a slight frown.

It had been the first time in forever that he'd worn it, that day in early May when Steph was feeling so horrible that she hadn't gotten out of bed for hours. She was there when he arrived, back from Florida, in the middle of the afternoon.

Murphy was snuggled up there with her then, much like she was with her father in current day, the two talking softly when he entered about, what he could tell, utter nonsense.

That's mostly all the girls ever had to talk about, really.

"What are you girls talking about?" he'd asked regardless, not caring much for the response. Aurora was off at some sorta practice of some sort and wouldn't be back until dinner while Vaughn was with Linda, if the text he'd gotten from his wife early was to be believed.

Considering Murphy was the only one soaking up time with their mother at the moment, he was leaning towards believing it.

They had to have heard his car pull up or at least Andre bark at the man when he entered from the garage, but his daughter acted surprised regardless, springing right up to greet the man. Lifting her into his arms, Paul held her real close, though he was watching from over her shoulder as his wife stayed right where she was, laying on her stomach in their bed, not moving an inch to greet the man.

A cardinal sin, before, but at that time, he was just grateful for the smile she sent his way, if not only the fact he'd found her not only still there, but also well enough to listen to the drivel he was sure she was getting from their middle daughter.

Returning their grin, Paul sat Murphy down as he recalled before using a really dumb trick to get her out of the room so that he could check on Steph. Something along the lines of mentioning to her that Andre was downstairs, playing all by himself, and that she better hurry and get some time in with him, before her sisters got back home. Something with the dog, he was certain, and more than likely that.

The only thing that mattered was that it worked.

Then it was just him and his wife.

He went to shut the door behind Murphy before approaching the bed. Steph's eyes were on him, he felt them, the entire time, and that was where he wanted them. Paul bent over the bed, as she continued to rest on her stomach, and stroked the back of her head a few times.

"You alright?" When she only moaned, he asked, "Did she talk your head off?"

"No," came the soft whisper. "Just tried to."

"You need anything?" He was taking to unbuttoned his shirt then, not caring much or the feel of what he wore to work in those days. "You hungry? Or you want me to-"

"I thought you wouldn't be home until tomorrow?"

"I said I'd need to leave again tomorrow. That I'd be home tonight." He dropped his pants too, leaving him in only his boxers before he went to the dresser to pull some other stuff out and on. "Unless you need me-"

"You have to work, Paul."

And he didn't want to have that argument again. That day.

Once he was in shorts and an undershirt, he went to fall into bed with his wife, making a face across the bed at her.

"You think I'mma let it pass without mention?"

"What?"

Nodding at her, he said, "You sleeping in my spot. What do you think this is? Huh?"

When she didn't answer, only laid there with her head turned to the side to stare at him, Paul frowned a bit and reached out, much like he would that day in August with his middle daughter, to stroke her hair some, less to awaken himself that time, but rather her.

"Hey," he whispered as he leaned over her. "Are you alright? Do you need-"

"Why do you have that on?"

Steph's eyes had fallen from his, to the bed, where his other hand was resting between them, needling in almost immediately on the band around his ring finger.

"Huh?" He was lost then as, of course, when he'd first put the ring on, he knew it would be a shock to Stephanie, as he hadn't worn it in a year, at least, but at the moment his mind was so far gone from it that her mentioning it had done the reverse to hi. He was shocked. "What are you talk-"

"This." Her hand was cold, he remembered, because when she moved to trace a finger across his wedding band, he felt this and immediately moved to wrap it up in both off his, as if to warm her. Steph was undeterred. "Your ring."

He was rubbing her hand between his two much longer ones. "Oh. That."

"Why are you wearing your wedding ring?"

"I'm married, ain't I?"

"You don't like it though."

"Are you kiddin?" He grinned widely at her. "I love being married to you, silly."

Stephanie slipped her hand out of his as she sat up a bit. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

Still forcing a grin, he took a glance at his ring as well before, with a shrug, saying, "I like it."

"You do not."

"How do you know? Have I ever said that?"

"No," she said slowly. "But you don't wear it anymore."

"It was too tight around my fingers, these past couple of months."

"Months?"

"Year or so. Whatever."

"Paul-"

"I just needed to get it resized," he insisted. "That's all."

"I believed that," she agreed. "Back when you first used that excuse. Then I let it go because you clearly didn't care to still wear it."

"I love it."

"Paul." She was trying to give him a look, but she just came off as tired and he kinda felt like an ass for bugging her. At the same time, however, he didn't wish for her to be miserable all the time. If he could make her happy, entertained, even if it was keeping her from her rest, then it was just what he had to do. "You could have gotten it resized the second it felt too tight. Why now?"

Because he was losing her. And couldn't cope. And loved her. Because she was his world and did everything for him and how the fuck could he have just taken that for granted for so long? Huh? Because he felt like he'd certainly taken it for granted.

"I just had time to, Steph." Reaching over, he poked her nose gently. "And if I want to wear it-"

"But you don't. And we've been married for over a decade; it's really not that big of a deal if you wear it or not."

"You wear yours still. Constantly."

"Because I love mine," she said. "I always have. I like showing it off and looking at it through the day. It shows how much we love one another."

"Then-"

"For me," she explained. "It means that to me. For you it doesn't mean anything. And that's fine. It's just a stupid ring."

"Why are you fighting me on this so hard?" Paul grimaced, a bit, partially for show, but also a bit because he was truly a little disappointed. He'd worked it up into a big deal, a nice surprise, and she was ruining it. "I thought you'd be happy."

"If you really were wearing it because you wanted to, I might be, but-"

"Maybe that is why I'm wearing it."

"No. It's not."

"Then what is it? Huh?"

And he recalled too, quite vividly, the way her tone dropped to an icy pitch and she looked him dead in the eyes as she said, "You're doing it because I'm dying and that's just fucked up. I'm not a child. If you didn't want to do it when I was healthy, don't do it when I'm dying. It's not a game."

Paul didn't know what to do. At all. So he just laid there, on his side, watching as she settled back on hers and continued to glare at him with a viciousness his wife rarely showed towards him. Towards anyone, really. She was more of the super fake sweet venom that she was the outright poison seeping into a salty wound.

"I didn't-"

"Don't," she cut him off. "Seriously. I don't care. It's a jerk thing to do and-"

"Stephanie, I love you, you big idiot."

"Excuse me?"

Huffing noisily through his nose, he said, "I'm wearing it because I love you and I want everyone to know that I love you. I got tired of wearing it, yeah, and my fingers really did grow or swell or something, because it did get too small, and I always meant to get it enlarged or whatever, but time went on and you didn't care and I just… Fuck, Steph, you are dying. And I hate it, okay? I hate this whole thing. And I thought you'd like this. Me wearing this. That it would make you smile or giggle or something like that. But it also makes me feel..."

At that moment, stupid, honestly, as Paul wasn't one for big mushy moments. Steph had always been sated with kisses to the cheek or murmurs in her ear. Sometimes he'd go over the top. Mostly on important days. Days important to Steph, that is. Her birthday. Their anniversary. Valentines Day. Those sorts of days. And, given their schedule, typically not on those specific dates, but rather one close by in which they weren't busy.

Randomly, he might surprise her. When neither were too busy. Do something real dumb that she was so totally into. Like take her to see a movie he'd hate other than the really graphic nudity scenes that gave it its R rating. A real nice dinner that he'd not mentioned to her. Or even just being alone, in the house, by planning the girls all something else to do, was special to them.

They were never the type that thrived off doing much frequently. Steph liked to just hang around the house, when they were first dating, snuggling up on the couch and putting in a movie. Listening to music in bed while they mostly did nothing. Making horrible dinner together even though neither could cook and eventually just deciding to order pizza.

Just stupid stuff. They loved it, back when their relationship was fresh and it had carried over for the entire tenure of it. But…

Sometimes he wished they'd done more. So many of their memories were just stagnant nothings that bled together. Bits and pieces of different conversations they'd had while sitting on the same couches, lying in the same beds, going to see the same bands, with some really cool experiences sprinkled in, but it could have always been more.

But Paul wasn't a more type of guy.

He liked less. In their dates and in his words. The less words he had to use the better. He did so much talking up at work, whether it had been out in the ring or behind the scenes, that when he was home, Paul wanted nothing more than to forget for awhile what words were. Save the ones he had to use on his daughters and not much else.

Plus…

Steph always said that he was romantic. And maybe he was. In his own special way. But it was certainly a jokey romance.

Jokes were all zapped out of them by that point, however.

"When I've looked at it, all day today, I've just felt...closer to you. Like how it was. When we first got married and I would put it on each morning and think, damn, I'm married to the only woman that's ever made me really, truly happy. Over time I...I took it for granted. I took you for granted. And now it's… So fine, Steph, maybe its because you're...dying, but fuck, is that wrong? I'm losing you and I'm trying to hold on in stupid ways. I'm sorry that I wanna feel that again. That...rush. That… I love you, Steph. God, I love you. And I love being married to you. And I want to soak up every bit of it before it… I don't… I just love you. Okay?"

Paul felt like a stupid kid or something, stumbling over his words, being unsure of himself. Around his wife of over a decade, for that matter. It was made worse by Steph not speaking when he finished. He couldn't read her for once and only watched, silently, waiting.

She reached a hand out towards him eventually, resting it against his cheek. Then they both just stayed like that for a good long while. Paul watched her and her eyes focused mostly in other places than him, but they were comfortable.

Murphy came back eventually with the dog and ruined it, but that was fine, because Steph wanted to get up. She didn't go very far. Just down the stairs and to the couch, but it was something.

He could tell how surprised she was, the next morning, when she saw him put the ring on once more. She probably thought he'd forget, but he didn't, grabbing it from where it sat beside hers on the dresser. When they kissed goodbye, her hand came up to stroke at the ring, while his hand grasped her cheek gently, and she repeated to him what her plans were for the day, as she actually had a treatment to go in for, while he only offered once more to stick around and go with her.

"You," she said as she stroked at the hand over her cheek, mostly the band around his ring finger, "have to work."

"I don't have to."

"You do have to."

"Your father's my boss, princess."

"Yeah, and I could be sick as a dog and still not be able to get him to take off."

"That's why he gave me to you. To fill in."

"I took you. He didn't give me anything. It was quite the battle."

Neither were grinning though, he recalled, as Steph's finger kept toying with his ring. He was afraid, after the night before, that seeing it would continue to annoy her, but she seemed to be enjoying it there then.

Which was good.

Because he planned on keeping it there.

His hand being dangled over her face while he contemplated this must have bothered Murphy, as she awoke, blinking sleepily at him. He saw her, though he was still contemplating his ring, waiting for her to speak before moving.

"Daddy?"

His hand fell, resting against her face then, something that would have made her giggle usually, but they were living in a different time then.

"What?" he replied back in a rather dead tone. Still, she didn't smile. Only shoved his hand off before scooting closer to him.

"Do we really gotta go back to school on Monday?"

Paul blinked, watching her face, before saying, "If you think that you're still upset about...Mommy...then I'll figure something out for-"

"No." She even shook her head. "I just hate it."

Letting out a long breath, he brought his hand down onto her cheek again, though that time he rubbed his thumb heavily against it, just to annoy her.

"Yeah," he sighed as she shoved at his hand. "Me too."

They were just finishing up school, back in May, when he'd first started wearing his ring again. Which was both good and bad. It was great that they'd be out and be able to spend as much time with Steph as they could before….before, but at the same time, his wife wasn't exactly the best of company.

In the final weeks before school was over though, she sure tried to pretend to be. She kept telling the girls about how, since she'd be completely free of work that summer, that they'd have so much fun. Vaughn believed her, but he was pretty certain the older two were a bit skeptical.

Steph didn't have treatment though, that last week before school let out, so the weekend before it they had a little get together with Shane's boy and their girls at their house. Vince, of course, eventually wandered over with Linda and it was just a nice day.

That Paul spent in his office.

He wasn't really that busy, but he had some calls to make that Saturday and was taking care of them in his home office, planning on joining the others eventually. He'd actually be shocked, when he'd seen Vince there, when he went out there, as the man usually was busy as well on Saturday afternoons.

Steph would just giggle though, when he muttered it in her ear later and inform him that it was just that the two were too alike for their own good.

But it wasn't Steph who knocked at his office door, while he was still on the phone. Nor was it one of the kids. Instead, it was Shane, who peeked into the room after his knock. Paul was actually standing behind his desk, staring out the window, and only glanced over his shoulder before nodding at Shane, allowing him entry, though he still spoke into the phone for at least a good few minutes.

His brother-in-law kept himself occupied during this by going around the room and looking at some stuff. Photos, mostly, that littered his desk and the tiny bookshelf, picking some of them up and staring at them.

"My wife send you after me?" Paul grumbled when he finally dropped his cell into his pocket and turned the face the man. "I won't be that much longer."

"Kids are hungry," Shane informed him with a shake of his head. "Figured I should ask before I started grillin' the stuff you bought. Some of us are pretty touchy about that sorta thing."

Vince.

He meant Vince was.

That should have been the first tip off to Paul that the man was there, given that it was probably him that cautioned his son about touching another man's grill, for some stupid reason that only the man himself would get offended over. Stephanie, on the contrary, would probably have told her brother to use it. But nope. Not on Vince's watch.

Grills and the things that went on them were sacred.

Paul only nodded though, at him, the desk between them then as he turned the face the other man. 'Yeah, sure, whatever. There's weenies and burger patties in the fridge. Some sausages and shit too, I think, that you can grill if you'd rather have that."

Shane nodded and he nodded and it could have been done with, but it wasn't, because Paul couldn't let it be.

"Hey, uh, do you have a minute?"

He was about out the door, his brother-in-law was, but stopped at that and glanced over at the man before nodding again and stepping back in.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Just...uh..." Paul was scratching at his head then, staring down at his feet, as if unsure. Because he was. Unsure. Very unsure. He'd thought a lot about his next words, but that didn't mean he was certain they were the right ones. "It's just, uh, you know… Steph's not getting any….better and I have a lot of shit to deal with recently and I just… I don't have time to, uh, you know, hang around the house as much and-"

"Hey, it's cool," Shane said, tossing up, as if to the stop the man. "You don't gotta worry about it. I spend as much time as I can with her. And when I'm not, she's always texting the hell outta me. I mean, I used to think she text me a lot, but recently… And that's fine. Don't worry about-"

"That's not what I mean." Paul dropped his hands, swallowing a bit then. He felt nervous, for some reason, speaking to Shane. "I mean, you can...hang around or whatever, but I want more time. Here. With Steph. And… I need you to… You're already kinda back, on the show, like, on camera, and you and Vince worked together backstage for years. NXT is still mine, but… If I could be off on Monday and Tuesdays, instead of dealing with work shit and not...fielding damn calls all the time when I am home… Just until this is all over. I just need...more time with Steph." And he took a deep breath before letting it out, as if deflating. "Please."

Shane stood there for a moment before asking, "You want me to...work more? For the company? Again?"

"In my place or Steph's...whatever. I mean, if you don't want to, it's fine. I can ask someone else. But It's, uh, not gonna be much longer and… It should just stay in the family. The...work. You should be the one filling in for me. Only if you want to. And just...until Steph..."

"Gets better," Shane finished for him, though they both knew that wasn't happening, even then. It sounded less harsh to both their ears and no doubt tasted less virulent to her brother on his tongue. "Until Steph gets better, you should take some time away. She isn't gonna like it though."

Paul nodded a bit as Shane reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "Yeah, she's not too...thrilled with not being able to work. You know her and Vince; they'd sink with the company if they had to."

"Yeah, well," his brother-in-law sighed as he nodded his head, "I'll help out where I can."

"It'll make Vince happy, anyways, probably. Not me stepping away, I mean," Paul laughed, as if uncomfortable with even the thought. "But having you back around-"

"Just until Steph gets better," Shane reminded, both of them looking one another in the eyes for the first time. "And...she won't like it at first, but if I know my sister, having you around more will probably be the best thing ever."

"I don't know if you know this, but I think your sister might kinda be into me."

Shane grinned at him as he turned to head off. "Only just a little."

"Stop it!"

And it was gone. The thought of that day and when he finally went down to the pool with the others. Vanished. Because Murphy was shoving him away from her again, annoyed by his constant cheek scrubbing and wanted him to know it.

"It hurts," she complained, giving him a pained look.

"Does not." Paul shook his head. "You big baby."

"I am not."

But he did lean over and press a kiss to her cheek, which finally at least got a smile from her. As he sat up though, Murphy reached over and grabbed his arm, holding him still.

"What happened to my videos?" she asked. "I was watchin' 'em. Can't I keep them? They're mine."

"I didn't take them from you, squirt." He was wiggled his arm free from her so that he could get to his feet. "I just gave them to your sister to sort through. She has hers and you have yours. Go ask her where she put them, huh?"

She was already scrambling off the bed to do so. He had a pretty strong feeling that already those videos were very valuable and was already fearing the worst.

What if one got scratched or something?

He was gonna have to back them up, on the computer, he figured. Each CD. Or maybe go on Steph's and see if she saved the videos.

Just an added issue only Steph could think to add to his life.

Although…

When he went downstairs, Aurora was with the other kids, in the basement, taking turns on some sort of videogame and she didn't seem so...sad, maybe, was the word. And it might have had nothing to do with the videos. She might have just enjoyed whatever stupid fighting game the kids were playing, but...he liked to think that it had helped. Listening to whatever Steph had to tell her had helped. That his wife was still caring for them, even though…

Vaughn wasn't very interested in videogames and he found her playing with some of those Superballs that bounced real high when you tossed the on the ground. She was out on the back deck, with Rogan and Neysa and Paul felt best sitting out there with them. Not helping Rogan and Vaughn bounce the balls (they were doing a pretty dang good job of it all on their own; the only problem ever occurred when one bounced it over the side of the railing and had to go get it), but just being around them made him feel a bit better.

Things were calming down around the house, it seemed, as tomorrow most of its inhabitants would be heading home and eventually Paul found himself alone out on the deck. His father came out there and sat with him for awhile, talking about something in the news that he didn't particularly care one way or another about, but pretended for his old man.

It was while they were out there that Aurora came, with a plate from in the house, to present to Paul. He felt dumb and stupid, like he had down at the lake earlier, when she'd taken it upon herself to be sure he got lunch too.

"We ate leftovers from the party for dinner," she told her father as she sat the plate on the deck table in front of him. "Grandma said you didn't eat yet."

He wasn't sure if it had been his mother or Linda, but he knew that whichever it was hadn't said this directly to Aurora. She probably overheard it. It annoyed him deeply that someone was speaking about him and not directly to him, but anger wasn't an easy emotion to come by anymore. Maybe it was a plus?

He patted her on the head though, when she presented him with a burger and some chips and her grandfather asked her what sorta after school stuff she was hoping to do that year, saving Paul from finding conversation.

But his father got called into the house eventually, by his wife, and it was then that Aurora presented Paul with something else.

She'd had it in her other hand the whole time and Paul knew what it was. One of the CDs. He didn't know why she was carrying it around and that it was just a coincidence. When she held it out to him, however, he immediately knew it wasn't.

He feared the worst. That the CD didn't work and whatever Steph had recorded there was lost forever to their daughter and she'd always wonder what was on it and damn, he should have never shown those to Murphy.

He really shouldn't have.

Before he could say anything though, she was shoving it into his hand and when Paul looked down the CD didn't have one of his daughters' names in Stephanie's cute handwriting that he'd recognize anywhere.

Rather, in said handwriting, was plain, ' _For Paul'_ and nothing else.

"I think she made you one too," Aurora offered before quickly saying, "But I didn't watch it! I saw it and-"

Paul's breath felt as if it were caught, but he still said, "This was in the CDs?"

"Uh-huh."

It wasn't cold out, but he felt as if it were and, staring down at the burned CD, he only blinked a bit before whispering, "Thank you, Rora."

"Did you want your laptop?"

"N-No, I'm fine. You should go play some more." Taking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly before saying, "Your sister's birthday's almost over."

Numbed and shocked, after Aurora left, Paul sat out there for a bit, alone then. And when he went inside, Vince was hanging around, waiting for him. He wanted to talk something about work, but Paul kinda sidestepped him, muttering something about having to get to a bathroom, which was enough to get away from the guy.

He knew what he wanted.

Because Steph hadn't gotten better. She'd died. And now it was time for Paul to resume full tine working. Especially with the girls being back in school.

It wasn't so much that Vince was being insensitive, Paul was sure, but that was how he got over pain; he threw himself into work. And he always thought he and Paul were so alike.

But they weren't. There wasn't hardly any focus Paul could give to the product as a whole. If he had to work, it would be one thing. If he and Steph were just normal people and him not working meant not having money to care for his girls, he would have already been back full time, just like Vince wanted.

It wasn't that way though. Paul had worked his whole life so it would never be that way. Ever. They would always be taken care of. And he could go back when he felt like it. He wasn't completely removed from anything, he heard a lot about what was going on and, if something major came up, he was around.

But…

He'd given everything up for the company. For Vince. It could give him a bit longer if he needed it.

Paul went to his room, instead of the bathroom, to go put away the CD. Not watch it. Just…

Why did Steph have to do that? Make him one of those? When she knew how much he disliked them? From the beginning?

What was she thinking?

It was still on his mind too, that night, when his birthday girl no longer crawled into bed with him and Andre, claiming that the boys were being mean to her or something, but Paul only held up the covers, for her to crawl beneath then and the dog licked her face until her tears went away.

He laid awake for most of the night, toying with his ring, thinking about that CD and just what could be on it. He had to watch it. He knew he did. But…

Eventually he got up, Andre bounding along, under the pretense of having to take the dog out, but knew it was just to try and tire himself out. He found Vince out on the back deck when he and the dog went out there and, allowing Andre to rush off to the use the bathroom, he went to stand against the rail.

"How old are you now? Vince?" Paul asked him as he stared down into the darkness that the porch light couldn't reach, finding Andre's shadows randomly, just trying to be sure the mutt didn't run off too far. He was a good boy, Andre was, and would almost always come back, but it was the one time that they didn't come back that mattered. "Too old?"

"That's cheap coming from you. We're both on the wrong side of fifty."

"Ain't so sure you were ever on the right," he muttered. "And I ain't fifty yet."

"I'm supposed to know your age now? What? You think you're my real son or something?"

"Somethin' like that." Glancing over at the older man, he asked, "What are you doin' out here anyways?"

"Linda snores."

"Does she," he remarked, not really questioning, though Vince nodded emphatically anyhow.

"But she claims it's me. That's the kicker, right? Kicks me out. Says I'm snorin'. But it was her. Know it was."

Paul would have rolled his eyes, were they not so focused on Andre, who seemed to be chasing some sort of critter down below.

"Don't really sleep in the same bed these days, much, anyhow," he remarked. "You know, big a place as I got, be silly too."

"Its pretty common, huh? Among the, uh, over eighty?"

Vince grunted at him and usually would have rebuked him, but that time, instead, only said, "You and Steph-"

"I really, don't want to talk about-"

"That's fine." Vince spoke faster than him then, as if to keep him from getting upset and walking back off. "I actually have something else to talk about with-"

"I don't," he whispered lowly then, not meaning to take such a deep tone with his father-in-law, but being unable to help it in that moment, "want to talk about anything. Please, Vince, just shut up, alright? I'm not in the mood. Not right now."

That worked, somehow, miraculously. Vince didn't press the issue and when Andre came back, Paul went in, leaving the man alone one more, in the night, where he seemed to enjoy it most. He didn't say anything. Just let the moment pass and Paul go back in without making a big deal of things like he typically would.

Maybe…

Maybe Vince did understand some basic human emotions.

Probably not. He was probably just stuck trying to think up an over eighty rebuttal and let Paul escape during.

He didn't feel any better, when he fell into bed with Vaughn, Paul didn't, but was glad that he hadn't taken off his ring because it kept him occupied as he laid there, toying with it.

The bad day was done and the next was soon to begin, but things still and Vaughn's breathing soothed him as well as Andre lying at the end of the bed, licking at his toes. Especially though, that silly little band that he'd hated wearing for so long that it felt guilty and wrong to find so much enjoyment in it then.

Steph was dead. He wasn't wearing it because she was dying. Ever. It was because he was losing her and now he'd lost her and it felt like one of the only things he could still hold onto without overtly seeming connected to his wife. She loved hers so much, her stupid rings. He remembered when he first gave her that engagement ring, so many years ago, and how she would just look at it, all the time, and then grin real wide at him. Because she was so…

In love with him.

She was so in love with him.

From the beginning to the end, she was in love with him. In a way that he never saw from other people. Like, his parents loved one another. He loved Steph. People in his life loved other things and other people, but the way that she looked and felt about him was so…

It wasn't real, sometimes, it felt. Fake. Like Steph was putting on. No one could care so much about someone else.

But she did. The way her eyes glazed over when she was speaking about him and the accomplishments he'd made in a fake sport that, while involved extreme athleticism, mostly relied on having good connections (which he obviously formed as time went on), was hardly even scratching the surface, but certainly supplied a testament to her adoration.

She thought the world of him. Like her life completely changed when they got together. It could almost boarder on obsession. Stephanie meant so much to Paul, but at times, he wondered if she even meant half as much to him. Which was a shocking statement to make, considering the man loved her more than he ever had anything to that point. It got to the point where he felt more strongly about her than he did his own well-being. He was lovesick, from the near beginning, but Stephanie…

That's why it hurt so much and it took everything in his fiber not to tear apart that hospital and funeral home when his wife's wedding ring was stolen.

Stolen. Shane and Vince and his friends told him otherwise, but he knew it wasn't. Steph took it off and when they were looking over her body in that stupid funeral home, it wasn't there. He hit the roof. He searched everywhere. Accused everyone, but no one would help him. The hospital said that it was never there and the funeral home says she wasn't wearing it when she came and just...

It was stupid, he knew, and Stephanie was still dead, it made no difference what was on her finger as they laid her in the ground, but did to him. He couldn't imagine her there, for the rest of eternity, without it, but now…

Now.

Turning on his side, Paul tucked the covers better around his youngest and finally kicked his foot a bit, to get Andre away from it before he bit his toe, before vowing to keep his eyes shut until he at least counted out a full one hundred seconds.

The last he recalled he'd made it to 54, stuck before the 55 on thoughts of his wife before he passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

Most everyone else was heading out on Friday, off back to whatever work they had, but Paul thought the girls would wanna spend until Saturday evening at the lake house. Then on Sunday, spend the last day of summer at home, doing whatever it was that they wanted to do.

He hoped it wasn't much. He didn't feel up for it, if it was.

Andre woke him up that morning, just in time for the sunrise. He couldn't be too upset; the poor pooch had to really be let out.

Immediately.

Leaving his baby behind, snoring and somehow tangled up (literally) in the sheets, Paul set off to get the animal taken care of.

Nails clipping on the hardwood floors, Andre raced through the halls the second his father opened the bedroom door, headed to the closest exit he could find. This happened to be the front door and Paul only let him out before heading to go find some relief for himself as well, being much quieter than the canine had as he headed back to the bedroom and, just as quickly, the master bathroom.

It was weird. The tile was colder, for some reason, on the bottoms of his feet than the wood had been. Absently, he considered if there was a reason for this, some sort of chemical makeup of wood as oppose to tile, or if it was just his imagination. He felt like his perceptions of things recently had been shifted to different things. He was more in tune, it felt like, with the tiny things, frequently missing the big picture. He didn't care that he hadn't hung up his towel before, the last time he used it, leaving it a still sopping mess on the floor, but rather focused in on the fact that his feet were a bit cooler in the bathroom in contrast to the bedroom.

Nonsensical, perhaps, but he felt hazy most of the time, leaving the little things to be much easier to handle and consider.

Paul didn't flick on the bathroom lights. Didn't need to. There was a big window that hung on the wall above the tub that Steph loved so much. It was frosted or whatever that thing was where everything was blurry when you looked in or out it. Paul thought it was stupid and a waste of money. Steph said that he thought this about most things.

She was usually right.

But she liked how when the sun was rising or setting, the colors of the sky would catch the glass in certain ways, casting glows on the dimmed bathroom. Steph called it beautiful frequently and would thump him in the head if he remarked otherwise or even, at times, if not at all.

At the moment he was just appreciative that it was there and therefore he didn't have to burn his eyes out to see.

Through the frost, he could make out some shapes and he could see something darting around, out there, in the yard, and knew that Andre was chasing squirrels or something. At least he was happy.

Paul had stopped working out regularly that summer and he didn't particularly care for how sluggish he was feeling as of late. He knew that it was combination of things (age, lack of sleep, grief), but also knew that it had to do in part with the disruption in his typical exercise plan. Stark, however, was the difference in pinpointing a problem and actually being able to do anything about it.

He stripped down completely after getting some water running in the shower, just standing there unconcerned, while it warmed. With little else to do, he only stared into the mirror above his sink. Or, at least, where his sink was supposed to be. Steph's shit spilled over from the other side of the vanity, even though it was the lake house and not home and who the heck needs all that shit, perfumes and lotions and creams and shit, when they're on vacation?

She was lucky if he'd even deodorize out on the lake.

Err, well, he was lucky to remember because if he didn't, he was in for quite the scolding.

It didn't make him grin though to think about like he thought it would. Rather, it made him realize, once again, that eventually he was gonna have to get rid of Steph's stuff, the meaningless stuff that just junked up the bathroom anyways and he was nearly certain she didn't use half of. It should be easy, on that that end, to at least toss all that junk in a trash bag and be done with it, but for some reason, he chest began to tighten, just from the thought, and his eyes became trained on the mirror as he stared at himself rather than think about it.

The water was too hot, when he stepped into the shower stall, but he wasn't up for getting into toying with the temp and figured it was better to burn than freeze anyhow. It felt good on his back, anyways, when he turned it towards the shower head, reaching up even years out subconsciously, shocked just long enough to feel stupid when there was no hair there to wash.

He could hear it, even over the sound of the shower, when his bedroom door was slammed open. It sounded like Murphy who called out for him and then, of course, Vaughn complaining as she was woken up. Paul had a bad feeling that Murphy was looking for his laptop or, worse, wanted to talk about those videos.

It was something that was going to have to happen eventually, of this he was certain, but Paul just couldn't yet. More than just not wanting to, he legitimately felt as if speaking in depth at the moment about his wife with the girls would lead to him getting all emotional or something and he didn't feel as if that was what they needed at the moment. Plus, he just didn't like feeling that way in general, outwardly emotive. He wasn't raised like that. He felt things, of course. Paul felt a lot of things. But you deal with it on your own.

That wasn't to say that he wanted his daughters to be that way. He wanted them to openly grieve if that's what they felt like doing. He figured it was healthier, anyways. But he was hoping that this could be done either at a later date, when he was out of his process of it, or with one of their grandmothers or aunts.

With Steph, really.

He was still waiting around, as stupid as it was, for Steph to fix all the problems that her death had sprung up.

If he'd been the one to die, she'd know what to do. How to help them. She'd have had them over it, probably, had he had some sort of long, drawn out sickness, by the time he was actually in the ground. They'd have come to terms with it and been just fine. And when things weren't fine, she'd have the perfect, soothing words to quell whatever fears or pain appeared. Crying with them when they needed someone to cry with and being strong when they required that as well; Steph would do it all.

And Paul felt like he was doing nothing, but being a big failure and a baby and hoping that there was someone else in his family that could do his job. Even when he would lie to himself, about how he couldn't breakdown for fear of them doing the same, he knew deep down it was just an excuse.

He was scared. He'd had months to prepare for the project and still dropped the ball, just wishing the date away rather than figuring out what he would do when it arrived. Steph's death had been imminent and yet he continued to delude himself into believing that if he just prayed a bit more or hoped or even just kinda plugged his mind to idea of her being gone that it would all just work itself out, but it hadn't. Whether he liked it or not, Steph was gone and he was going to have to be a pretty big portion of the solution to where everything was headed next.

No amount of dreaming or thinking of the past would change that.

And yet…

"Daddy! Are you in there?"

Murphy didn't want him to drift to far either, apparently, as she came to knock at the bathroom door. "No one else is up. Where's Andre?"

Even though he didn't want to, Paul had to get out of the shower then and keep her quiet, before she woke the whole house. The others would be leaving in the coming hours and no doubt would want their sleep, regardless of the fact she clearly was content with the amount she'd already gotten.

"Give me a sec," he sighed from in the bathroom as he slowly stepped out of the shower stall, frowning when his eyes finally found his blue towel in that heap on the floor, stinking and undesirable, awaiting his use. "Just gotta towel off."

She was too, waiting on him, outside of the bathroom door. Vaughn was curled back up in bed, but Murphy was right there, staring up at him with wide eyes, and Paul only patted her on the head, mumbling something about how they needed to go find Andre; he was outside all alone.

Murphy didn't like this and tugged him along, rushing to go find the dog. She was quite fond of him, perhaps even more than she had been their last dog, if only because Andre seemed equally as drawn to her whereas Bluto, their former dog, mostly just loved Steph and saw everyone else as baggage that went along with this.

He hadn't gone far, the dog hadn't, and Paul was glad for this. Eventually, sure, Andre would die because everything dies, but it wasn't anything that needed to happen soon. At all.

Andre was very excited to see Murphy and, though she seemed to have woken up in a bit better mood that day, she still didn't jump around with him or take off running in an attempt to get the dog to chase her. She only patted him on his head as Paul stood there, beside her, waiting for something. For her, he guessed, to decide that they should lead the dog back into the house, but honestly he was hardly thinking about her at all, much less the dog.

Drifting again, Paul ignored Murphy and Andre, who were very content in both giving pets and receiving them, respectfully, his mind finding favor in thoughts of getting back in the shower again, with the hot water and silence.

Where he could think.

Or not.

Feel.

Or not.

Exist.

Or not.

Just be alone.

Alone.

He'd always be alone, from then on.

Shower or not.

"Late," he recalled Steph yawning as he got home, like she said, late one night in early June.

She was resting in bed, with her phone, and alone for once. Since summer break began it's typical tyranny on their household, at least one of the girls could usually be found snuggling in bed with their mother, either sleeping or talking. Just lying around. Being.

But that night.

"At your dad's," he replied with a bit of a sigh as Steph hardly glanced up from her phone. "Getting bitched out over this whole Shane doing stuff for me at work. Like the man wasn't doing it before me."

"That's because you need to work, Paul."

"You and your father are too much alike."

"Come lay down with me." She glanced up finally, eyes staying on his as he pulled his shirt over his head and moved to drop his pants. "Please."

"Might stink," he warned, though he was coming to fall into bed regardless. "Ain't showered since this morning."

"Don't care." She was facing away from his side of the bed and he knew that meant she wanted him to cuddle up to her back. To hold her. "Just want you."

"Mmmm."

"Are you still angry today?"

That was what started it all. He could still remember her how nonchalantly she tired to pass off this sentence and how, at first, he believe she truly was just curious. Or concerned. It felt like something she would ask, were they in the previous year or any of the ones before it.

But they had been in the current one, their last one, together, and she knew what she was doing.

If it has yet to be made clear, Steph always knew what she was doing.

"Wasn't angry," he muttered into her neck, eyes focusing more on her phone, finding her to have been texting what looked like one of her friends. "Yesterday."

"You were too," she replied right back, but it wasn't in an accusatory tone. Just a statement. It wasn't up for discussion.

And it hadn't been for a few weeks.

June was when they both kinda knew, hey, it was beginning to look like the end was coming sooner rather than later and he had begun his descent into the funk he had, in August, as he stood out there with his daughter and dog, but felt alone and wrong and...guilty.

He felt guilty, back in June, because of how easy it had become, for him to snap at one of the girls or to space out, when Steph was trying to talk to him. To not be interested in what was going on, regardless of the fact that all he wanted to do, to throw himself into them, all of them, his wife and kids, and just have them, all four of them, together, for as long as he could.

Rather than becoming overly loving, however, he could see himself becoming more and more distant, to all of them. He'd only just started his skipping of shows and meetings, being around the house more, but it was too late, it felt like, as his attitude was dipping south from the get-go.

It was a lot like senior year. Before you got to it, you had all these plans, but then you were there and the weight of it, of the ending and the work and emotions tied into it, was just too heavy. The excitement turned to apathy and the apathy in his case was more like a short fuse. He tried to get excited, to play games with the girls or to sit around with Steph all day, but just little things that went wrong, like one of the girls spilling a drink on the floor or the dog refusing to stop barking, just suddenly pissed him off in ways it never had before.

He was tired.

"No," he said even though it was a lie.

"You're tense."

"Am not."

"That's why you're in a bad mood," Stephanie reasoned. "That's why you need to work. To put thought into other-"

"I'm gonna be with you." He remembered letting out a long breath, right on her ear, but the hot air didn't make Steph shiver for once. "At least for the summer."

One of Steph's hands had left her phone and moved then to toy with his fingers as his arm was slung over her, not pulling her towards him, but also not allowing her much movement. Softly, she said, "I've been stuck doing the same thing for weeks. It grates on you."

"Just stop, okay?"

She did. But only for a minute or so as they laid there. He wished that he'd turned on the stereo, before lying down, but didn't feel like getting up then. Just as he was getting ready to ask her to play something, anything, from her phone, the woman spoke again.

"I don't want you to, like, be bored here with me all day, every day."

"I won't be," he told her after a sigh. He sighed a lot, in June. "I'll have the girls and I'm still heading down to Florida, sometimes, to take care of-"

"You should."

"Should what?"

"Go to Florida." Steph had stopped her toying, but her fingers still held one of his, the index. "A lot."

"To what?" He wasn't understand. At all. "Check in at the Performance Center?"

"Well, yeah, duh. You have to-"

"If you say something about work-"

"What are you going to do after I die, Paul?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you going to just be miserable?"

It wasn't a joke, either, when she asked this. Her tone was flat and her face wasn't much better. He was frozen, just staring at his wife without blinking.

"Because I don't want you to be." Toying with his fingers once more, she looked away from him and down at her phone. "Ever. Okay?"

"Stephanie," he finally breathed. "I don't wanna-"

"Talk about this?" When he said nothing, she only said, "If I have to think about it, you should have to listen to it. And I know you think about it too."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked then. "I don't even get what you're telling me. That you want me to be happy? If you die?"

"When I die."

"Fine. When. I won't be miserable for the rest of my life. Promise. Alright?"

"That's not what I meant."

"What are you talking about? You said you didn't want me to be miserable, I said I won't. How are we talking about two different things?"

"I wasn't talking about in general, Paul."

He was trying hard not to get too huffy with her, but it was hard.

"Then what specifically, Stephanie?'

"Just… You've just been...stressed, a lot, and it's starting to show."

"Is not."

"You yelled at Murphy for-"

"They shouldn't just leave their damn toys all over the house."

"Paul."

"It's dangerous. What if I fell and broke something? Or one of them? Or you?"

"Yeah, and there's a way to explain that."

"Steph-"

"I just want you to find something to...else to do. Sometimes. To...relax you. You should happy. Not miserable. Right now and after… You should just be happy. I want you to be happy."

"Like what? You want me to take up golf or-"

"Paul."

"What, Stephie? I'm not getting it. What are you saying?"

"I just… Are you going to be with someone else? After I die?"

She had more than taken him by surprise in saying this. Paul hadn't been playing coy, at all, with their conversation. He truly did not understand what she was getting at.

But he was starting to.

"What?" he asked, frowning at her as he pushed away from the woman a bit. "Stephanie-"

"Well, I mean, obviously you are-"

"Why is that obvious?"

"Paul."

"Stop...saying my name like that. I don't get this. Why are you talking about-"

"Because it's something that we should talk about."

"Says who?" he asked. "Huh? No one I know. Why would we ever talk about-"

'We've always talked about everything with each other and-"

"Has this been...bothering you?"

"No. And that's what I'm trying to tell you." Steph shifted as well then, so that she was facing him. Staring into his blinking, confused eyes, she said, "I want you to be with other people. That's what I was getting at. I don't want you to be lonely or think that I wanted you to be or anything like that."

Staring, he was silent for a moment as his chest tightened, clearly uncomfortable with their topic.

"I'm not gonna...do this with someone else," he finally told her, the words hanging in his throat as he shook his head a bit. "Ever. So-"

"This?"

" _This,"_ he kept insisting. "Us. This… I… Steph..."

"I'm not saying you have to fall in love with someone again."

If he wasn't in such a perturbed mood by that point, he might have made some sort of slight about never saying he was in love with her to begin with, but his sense of humor was always shut off when he was as worked up as she was making him.

"I'm just saying that you're going to be with someone after I'm gone."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Pa-"

"Don't say my name again."

She was shifting again, then so that she could lay down more, head resting on her pillow as she stared up at her husband. "You'll at least have sex again."

"Stephanie-"

"Don't say mine either. You will."

"Why do we have to talk about this?"

"Because I'm not getting better, Paul."

He knew. He'd known. But that didn't mean that he wanted to act accordingly.

"So?"

"I'm trying to tell you..." She shut her eyes then, but he continued to stare at her, watching, waiting. "I'm not doing anything here, Paul, for you or for anyone. I just sleep all day."

"You do not." He wasn't sure where she was going, but he didn't want her to get there. "You spend time with the girls. People come to see you. You do plenty."

"But not for you."

"What are you talking about?" he complained with a shake of his head. "All I wanna do is spend time with you. Like right now. So-"

"I don't want there to be a lull."

"Lull?"

Nodding, she said, "Between me being here and not. I meant what I said; I don't want you to be miserable or lonely. Even for a day."

"Then what-"

"I think you should… If you wanted to be with someone, right now, then I wouldn't mind-"

"Are telling me to cheat on you?"

"No." And her eyes opened then, watching him as his brows furrowed. She always told him how cute that face was, when he'd make it at her, but in that moment, she didn't seem to be enjoying it. "I'm just saying that if you wanted to… If while you're in Florida, you wanted to see someone, then-"

"Fuck, Steph."

"No, I'm trying to be-"

"You're being stupid. Knock it off."

"Be mature."

"Fuck you."

"Paul-"

"I don't want to fight." He fell then, into his pillow, and buried his face in it. "So just-"

"I'm not fighting. I want you to. You have to have something other than...this to deal with all day and I've thought about it a lot and-"

"Enough."

"No."

"I'm not going to fuck around on my wife while she's fucking dying, Stephanie." He lifted his head when he said that, so that she could hear every last word. "I'm just not. This is...weird. Just shut up."

"It's not weird."

"It's very weird."

"Only because you're making it that way."

"So what, Steph? Huh? While you're laying around the house dying, you want me to take a trip to Florida and what? Fuck women?"

"You're such a jerk."

"How? Is that not what you're-"

"I'm just saying," she told him in a soft voice, the one that always made him feel like an ass for snapping at her, even before she was sick, "that you're not happy right now. You can pretend to be, but I know you're not. I'm not happy either. This sucks. But...it'll be over for me, soon. It's not going to be for you. And if you can find something to do, away from here, even if it's spending time with...another woman or...multiple, then I'd want you to do that. I want you to just be happy."

He didn't even listen, really. Only replied, "I'm happy here," and they left it at that.

For awhile, anyways.

They had to, really, as one of the girls started yelling at another one from one of their bedrooms, apparently not as asleep as they'd seemed when Paul peeked in on them earlier. When he got back to her, Steph was sleeping and it was just as well.

Paul never wanted to have that conversation again.

Of course, it wasn't really his choice, it seemed, as they inevitably did, not a day later.

"Daddy, what are we gonna do today?"

He also didn't have time to think about it then as Murphy was finished, it seemed, trading head pats for face licks and was awaiting instruction from the man.

Looking down at her, Paul only stood there for a moment, thinking, before shrugging a bit and saying, "Whatever you wanna do, I guess."

His middle child stared right back up at him, shrugging as well before saying, "I dunno what I wanna do."

"Me neither."

They'd started to head back to the house then and, just as they were approaching it, Paul got this really...sick feeling in his stomach. Because he knew it was only a matter of time before everyone else woke up and then they'd be leaving and they'd all wanna hug him and tell to call if he needed anything and wasn't that just the worst?

He felt like it was the worst.

Weird to think about, but it kinda reminded him of bringing a newborn home from the hospital. Every then gives well-wishes and promises to babysit whenever needed. In the current case, when he came home empty handed, everyone was constantly calling to give regards and telling him to just pick up the phone and text or call if he needed someone to talk or anything like that.

Was it that people wanted to offer support in stressful times? Or was it that they wanted to be around to pick up on drama during said times?

Perhaps a bit of both.

And he knew with his family, at least, that was mostly genuine, but at the same time…

He just…

"Wanna go for a car ride?"

Murphy looked up at him with wide eyes at the suggestion. They'd reached the porch and she stopped in her tracks, awaiting an explanation. When he gave none, she only nodded, deciding quickly that she didn't care where they were going; just anywhere would be nice.

"Let's put Andre up," he sighed, shaking his head a bit before saying, "and be quiet about it. Really don't wanna deal with anyone. Alright?"

His SUV was a bit blocked in, out in the dirt driveway, but driving onto the front lawn in a way that would have gotten him a good scolding from his wife fixed this issue. Murphy still had to ride in the backseat, but she seemed fine back there, just staring out the window every time he glanced up in the review mirror.

On the drive down, he'd let Aurora control the radio and hadn't been in the car since, so it was on some pop-ish station that he only put up with for his girls, but was too lazy then to change. Music mostly felt like white noise anyhow. He just hoped it was bringing Murphy some sort of comfort.

The next time that Steph and Paul had discussed the whole...cheating thing (she could call it what she wanted, it was what it was), it was in a far more mature manner as they were alone in the house for a few brief hours, even Andre finding interest in things that didn't pertain to his parents.

He knew it was coming too, had been dreading it for the two days since the first mention of it, and only sat there, silently, as Steph explained to him just why she thought it was such a good idea.

"You're not going to be alone forever," she told him as they sat in bed beside one another. He was resting with his back against the head board, arms folded loosely (though that could change in an instance) across his chest, while she rested on her side, staring at him sleepily. The day before was spent with the girls and that was very draining on her. "I wouldn't want you to be."

He was listening to her, in a polite enough way, but he knew that she could read his body language enough to know that he wasn't thrilled with the conversation. Yet she was pressing forward, which also said a lot about how important Steph must have thought the whole thing was.

"And...if you could not be alone as soon as possible, why wouldn't you be? It's not I'm stupid. You're not...gonna mourn over me forever," she went on, randomly looking away from him, no doubt a show that she too wasn't so sure of what she was saying. But that had never stopped Steph from voicing what she thought. Especially to him. "We haven't had sex in a month, Paul."

He was done being quiet at that.

"And?"

"Paul."

"Don't do that today."

"It's just...only going to be longer. Even when it's not, it's not like… Don't make me talk about this."

"I'm not making you do anything." He even recalled shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. "You're the one that wants to do this."

"Don't be a baby about it."

"I'm not being a baby." And they were devolving, as they always did, in tense moments, into teasing one another. "It's just not..."

"What if I die next week?"

"What?"

"What if?" She was staring him straight in the eyes then. "And after a month, you slept with someone else. Would that be cheating?"

"I don't..."

"No. It wouldn't. So, if I live for another three months-"

"Why can't we not talk about this too?"

"-and you were sleeping with someone during that time, why would that be cheating? If I told you that you could?"

"Steph, you are taking too much medication." Which was true, probably, and not really a joking matter, but he was in a such a foul mood from the conversation that he didn't care. "Why are you trying to convince me to sleep with other women? This is beyond a first. This has to be the only time anyone will ever say that to someone that they care about."

"I'm saying it because I care about you. And it's a really normal thing," she insisted to which he rolled his eyes. "It is, Paul. People do this all the time. Not normally with such a stubborn person-"

"How even am I supposed to do? Huh?" He shook his head again. "Go out and just pick up some random chick or something?"

"How did you use to pick up women?"

"I ask my bosses if they have any daughters and what their trust funds are-"

"Never mind." And she was annoyed. She even gave him her back. "If you're just gonna be an ass-"

"I'm not trying to be." Err, well, with that previous remark, he had been just a tad, but she served him up for it. "I just don't… I've never cheated on you, Steph. Ever."

"I know."

"No. You don't. You believe me and I believe you. We trust one another. But tell you, right now, since the moment we got committed to one another, I've _only_ been with you. That's a long ass time. And..."

"So what then?" She glanced over her shoulder. "You're...scared?"

"No." He made a face. "I just… If you're dying, baby, I wanna be with you."

"I'm not saying you can't be."

"And if I've been a jerk," he went on, "recently, or short tempered, then I'm sorry. Everything's just… I just hate it." When she was silent, Paul said, "And you're not thinking about this. Not really. You're acting like this is just something to do. That I'm just gonna move on immediately. I'm not."

"I know. I only-"

"If things were reversed, would you go out and sleep with someone? If I told you to?"

"No." She didn't even think about it, he felt. "But that's different."

"Why? Do you think you love me more than I do you?"

"Just differently."

"Then you're stupid."

"Paul-"

"And this is a stupid idea. This is how shit starts, Steph. If I went out tonight and slept with another woman-"

"Or just date." She was already backtracking. "You just go out and have fun with someone else. You don't always have to sleep with someone."

"-then you'd be pissy about it."

"If you left the bed right now? Yeah, I would be, but that's not what I told you to do."

"Then what do you want, Steph? Huh? Tell me what to do."

"I'm not tell you to do anything," she said, staring across the room at nothing. "I'm just saying that if...when you're not home if you're out or something and… I don't know, Paul. I thought that you'd like this."

"That I'd like what? You basically giving up on me?"

"I'm not giving up on-"

"You're basically telling me that I'm going to do it anyways, so just go ahead. That's stupid."

"But you are," she insisted. "Maybe after I'm gone, but you are."

"Stop talking about that."

"You have to live, Paul, after me. You get to be the one. Just...earlier than we'd have thought. And you'll...probably get married again."

"Shut up, Steph."

"You might," she insisted. "It happens. A lot. And...you might even have more kids."

"I don't wanna do this." And he was getting out of bed then. "Have this stupid conversation-"

"It's not stupid." And she was moving as well, but it was to turn her face into her pillow. Her voice was sounded like it was breaking and he hated that, but she was doing to herself. All of it. She was the one, clearly, that was thinking about all of this, worrying about all this, and only trying to alleviate the thoughts by spurring him on to hurry up and get to it already. "You're not old."

He couldn't leave her though, when she was upset, not anymore (he used to be pretty good at riling her up, disappearing long enough for her to miss him, and then getting back in time to benefit from her remorse over their argument), and was just standing there, at the end of the bed, thinking.

"I don't want to get married again, Steph."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. It won't ever be like this again and-"

"Don't start with that 'this' stuff."

"Why? It won't. I can't… I was just supposed to be with you, Steph. And that's it. That's all. It's not even possible that I would ever feel this way, so strongly, truthfully, about another person again. It wouldn't even be fair to the people that never get this. And that's fine. If you...have to… I don't even want to, ever again. Nothing can ever come close to this. I won't let it."

Which he was ready to leave things at, heading off then, away from her, from that annoying state she kept insisting on putting him in, where she was almost outright demanding that he be emotional and sappy and all the garb that they usually buried so well in their quips and jokes.

But Steph always needed the last word.

Even if it wasn't conclusive to anything at all.

"Maybe," he heard her muttered at his back as he left, "you'll actually finally get a son."

Which was fucking aggravating. He couldn't get away from that. Ever. It was a question everyone asked him about, each time one of his daughters were born, and it was something Steph talked about all the time. And yeah, he'd fucking wanted a son, but with Steph. And even then, he couldn't imagine it adding anything to his life. Definitely not if it meant subtracting one of his daughters.

It was one of those damn interview questions that made him glad that he was behind the scenes then and away from morons that didn't know their damn place.

Then there was Steph, using it to try and get him back on her side. Which was a fucking stupid side, considering it consisted of attempting to get him, her very damn loyal husband, to fuck around around on her.

He wondered, looking back on it, how much it had to do with her father. The whole sleeping around thing. Steph wasn't stupid, of course, and knew just how different her father was from literally every person on the face of earth, in its entire existence, but at the same time…

It was just carnal, wasn't it? He'd been taught so. That women looked for men that reminded them of their fathers and fuck, Paul respected Vince for a lot, could separate the Vince he knew to the one the man probably actually was on the inside, but damn, Vince would probably sleep around on Linda, still, even if she was sick.

And it was probably actually something that Steph thought Paul would be happy for. Her permission or whatever. It wasn't even really that Paul hated the idea of it, but more that it was just poorly thought out. There was no way that it didn't end in her getting hurt and him being a bad guy.

Plus he meant it when he said it; if he had free time, he wanted to spend it with Steph.

She was his best friend.

She just was.

He was more than ready to just put the whole thing behind them. Let Steph try to bring it up a few more times and then let it die out.

But then she ahd to go and say that.

Needling him. Even after he'd tapped out, Steph was locked in and unrelenting. She wanted to have that conversation until he agreed to, at the very least, the possibility of him one day marrying again.

She'd gambled wrong though, as her statement only made him glare over at her.

"Fuck you, Stephanie." And he meant in that moment. "Damn, why can't just shut up? And leave it alone? Just- What's wrong?"

The final two words kinda just tumbled out of his mouth as Steph suddenly shoved up from the bed and rushed passed him, to the bathroom, where she hardly made it to the toilet.

Actually, thinking back on it, he was pretty sure he had to clean up a bit, afterwards, and she hadn't.

Regardless, all malice left him as he went to go rub her back and hold her hair (as well as keep his own gagging to a minimum) as Steph emptied her guts. He pretty sure though that it had less to do with her sickness (they were actually slowly taking her off her medications and she'd officially decided to end chemo/radiation two weeks prior) and more to do with how worked up she'd gotten herself. He felt like an ass, as if he'd had something to do with it, but really, it was all her.

He still wiped her face with a cool cloth though, before she got to her feet.

"I just," Steph whispered when they were finally back in bed together, him rubbing her stomach and nodding appropriately, no longer wishing to fight with the woman, "want you to know that if, when you're in Florida or wherever, something...happens… It's okay. Alright? That's all."

"Okay," he whispered, mostly to end the discussion. Nuzzling his head against hers as he rested against her side, he added, "I understand, baby."

"You don't have to, like, tell me about it." She let out a slow breath, staring up at him. "I'd actually prefer you didn't."

"Okay. I won't."

"Just be happy. I just don't want you to be alone, Paul. Ever."

"I won't be." He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her head. "I promise."

Paul had tensed up a bit, driving, just from thinking about all of that, and his daughter was being far too quiet, it felt like, not really questioning him at all about their destination. This led to him driving into town, little motivation in mind until finally she spoke up.

"Can we get breakfast?"

He felt like such an ass for forgetting. For not even thinking of it, really. She hadn't eaten yet. Of course.

"Yeah, baby."

"Whatever I want?"

"If it's in town."

"Can I get donuts _and_ a breakfast burrito?"

He was to tired to care. "If that's what you want."

If it was the little things that made her happy, he couldn't deny them.

Murphy wanted to sit inside the donut shop and made him order pig in the blankets, even though he didn't want them, so that she could not so sneakily eat them. He did drink his bottle of chocolate milk though, mumbling to her that she should drink hers too, because at least that was sorta good for her.

She talked him a little bit then, mostly about what other children she already knew where in her class at school and which she liked and didn't like. Basic things, but things that he couldn't focus on and, up until he'd given her those videos, he probably wouldn't have heard about anyways. But she was happier, it seemed, just from receiving those, even after only watching a few, and he couldn't hate that.

He didn't hate that.

Concerned still over what the fallout would be, should the videos dredge up too many emotions, but at the moment, he had to keep thinking of the positives.

At the moment though, all he wanted to think about was getting back to the warmth of his shower. It was soothing, when so little else ever was anymore.

That's what he found Steph doing, a week after their conversation. Not showering, technically, but soaking in the tub, finding her own soothing way to relax.

The house had been quiet, when he got in, and he found the younger two of his girls sleeping in the fort he'd made them in their play room, while Aurora was conked out in bed. Steph, however, was up of course and in the tub.

She seemed shocked to see him, when he came into the bathroom, and Paul only frowned at the bottle of wine that rested on the lip of the tub, as well as the glass curled in her hand.

"You shouldn't drink with your meds," he mumbled, though it sounded hallow to both their ears.

Still, Steph only stared before whispering, "I thought you'd… I really didn't think you'd be home tonight."

He'd thought it'd been obvious, that night when he agreed that yes, the next time he went down to Florida, if something happened, he'd just let it, that he was only agreeing with her to calm her nerves and get her to sleep off their argument.

"Why'd you think that?"

"I just… You were mad at me still. I could tell. And… Then you didn't text me, after the taping, like usual, and..."

"Why are drinkin', Steph?

"I thought that… I dunno. If you were out with someone else, like that moment-"

"Why would I do it the first night that you-"

"You didn't text me."

"I was busy. You're the one that always wants me to be engrossed in my work. And you didn't text me either, you know."

Steph shifted deeper in the water. She'd always enjoyed their tub at home when she was ready to spend some time alone. He didn't want her to be then though, alone; he wanted her to be with him.

"I thought it'd be romantic."

"How would me sleeping with other women be romantic?"

"It'd bring us closer because you wouldn't get tired of me or annoyed that you're having to take care of me or-"

"Why would I get tired of that? You're sick. That's ltiearlly the exact thing I signed up for. In our vows."

She only stared up at him. '"Didn't we write our own vows?"

Instead of answering, Paul leaned down to gently take the wineglass (which needed refilling anyways) from her hands. Instead of pouring more in there though, he took the bottle as well and went to set them over on the counter, away from her. Steph only watched silently, waiting.

"The water still warm?"

"Why?"

Shrugging a bit, he asked, "A man can bathe, can't he?"

And she smiled at him. Really smiled at him. He remembered that the most about that night, because she didn't do that very often anymore, not that real way, and she snuggled back against him when he sunk into the tub behind her, letting out a low moan while he was at it.

"If it upset you, baby," he whispered to her after a moment, "you shouldda, like, called me."

"And freaked out on the phone?"

"Yeah. Old Steph would have done it. I think you were more attached to me back then, babe."

"No."

"No way would you have told me to just go out and fuck someone else," he insisted. "Sick or not. I don't even think you wanted me to look at other women, if you died."

She pulled his arms tight around her, toying with the wedding band that he still wore around his finger and would, from then on. "I think I'm more attached now. Your happiness over mine."

"What you perceive as my happiness isn't always my happiness, babe." Humming a bit, he added, "If I was planning on cashing in, anyways, I wouldn't have made it so obvious. The whole point was for you to not know, right? Something just for me to do, on my own time, away from you?"

"In my perfect world though-"

"Of course."

"-you did mention it to me and you wouldn't, like, be in love or whatever with another woman."

"Never."

"But you'd find someone you at least liked to be around. And liked to be around you. And...I dunno. Just want you to fine."

"Steph," he sighed as he shifted a bit in the water. "If you don't...make it..."

And she wasn't, but confirming it with absolution just felt wrong."

"I'll probably sleep with other people again. But not before then. And not even a long time after, probably." Paul let out a long breath then, thinking for a moment before whispering, "I'll never be in love like this again though. This...whatever we are. I can't be. I've spent so many years with you, all of the important ones, and no one else will ever have that. You get me."

"You're really not that hard to get."

"My little drunk baby. Delirious."

"Not drunk."

"You're drunk. I'm deep. It's special that you get me."

"We are special," she conceded.

With a nod, Paul whispered in her ear, "Hell yeah we are, baby."

When they finally got out of the tub, Paul did first, to dry off, before helping Steph out. She'd been fine, sitting there, but the wine had gone to her head and was making the room spin. Not that this was a problem. Before she could even attempt to slip into her nightgown, Paul ahd wrapped her up in a fluffy towel and, with minimal effort, lifted her into his arms.

It was something that he used to do, when they were dating, that would sen Steph into giggles. He'd carry her around the house, refusing to put her down and it was just a big joke.

Not so much in June, as it was around then that there were times when Steph just couldn't climb the stairs to bed and he'd carry her up there. Less romantic and silly, far more morose and inflicting reflection.

But that night when he carried her to bed, Steph was giggling and he liked hearing her do that. A lot.

"You gonna ever tell me, baby?"

"Tell you what?"

"The movie," he remarked as she laid curled up to him.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't make noises at me. I'm not stupid. You watched a movie, didn't you? Probably a little cheap one on TV? Where this happened? Where the man met someone else while his wife was dying? "

"There was more to it-"

"Knew it."

"You need to watch it with me."

"I'm canceling our television service. You have to find something else to do all day."

"Well, since someone wants to spend so much time with me-"

"I do." He snuggled her up real close. "I really do."

The donut shop was cold (he couldn't recall ever being in a warm one) as he and Murph sat there, the place feeling even less so as he considered that evening silently. His daughter had shifted to talking something about the videos, he could tell that much, but Paul couldn't focus enough to understand. Some joke Steph had said, in one of them, a knock-knock joke that Murphy was very excited to tell other people.

"But not Vaughn," she said as he only stared at her. "Since she can't see or hear the videos. Right?"

"Right," he muttered. And wasn't she so lucky?

Paul still had his and, for some reason, even the thought of Steph just recording herself telling knock-knock jokes in it didn't ease his stomach when he thought about it. Just like the idea that one day, he might actually some semblance of what he felt with Steph, but with another person. That another woman might actually get him, at least on some level.

And...what if…

What if he ever did get married again? Then what?

No. He didn't wanna contemplate anymore unknown. So he continued to think about that night when he and Steph bathed together and he played with her hair while she played with his ring and they were just perfect together.

Even without her being there, in the donut shop, to scold Murphy on eating to much and him not at all, Paul still felt closer to his wife than he ever had another person in the entire world. Dead or alive, Steph was just the one.

The only one.

And Paul was pretty okay with that.


End file.
